Entrepreneurial Spirit - Chapter 6

“-now punch!”

Izuku surged forward at my shout, his glowing fist crashing into a stone wall and sending hairline cracks through the material. Steam was coming off his body, light wisps of vapor as he breathed harshly with the exertion. Walking up, I examined not only the damage, but also the boy's quaking form, his muscles tense and taught as he struggled to keep the stance I'd taught him.

“Relax,” I stated.

Instantly, the greenette sagged and managed a controlled fall to the floor, exhaling a cloud of hot mist. Still, his eyes were focused on the imprint of his knuckles on the wall in front of him, a wide smile stretching his cheeks to their limits.

“Not bad,” I praised – admittedly a bit backhanded – and walked up to inspect things more closely. “You're still not as efficient with the energy as you should be, it's bleeding into extraneous muscle and other tissues. That's what's causing the heat to build up like it is.”

“I thought you said some heat was normal?” Izuku gasped, and I snapped my fingers to produce a large container of water, which I handed over silently.

“It is,” I confirmed, “but there's a difference between some heat and being able to fry an egg on your bicep. The former will make you slightly uncomfortable in some environments, the latter will give you heat stroke and incapacitate you for days.”

“H-hai Sensei!” Izuku replied, then went back to chugging water.

“Overall, though, you're doing good. Nine months in and you're already at this level, that's above-average growth, at least,” I added, considering everything we'd gone through.

“I... I thought we'd get to more advanced reinforcement theory faster,” Izuku confessed, recovering enough that he was able to pull himself off the bare wooden floor.

I chuckled and shook my head. “I know you're enjoying being able to act out your All Might fantasies-”

The boy blushed even more severely than his temperature would indicate.

“-but we have plenty of time to cover all our bases before we move into more advanced theory. I want you fluent and competent in the basics before we even touch that, and that means practice-practice-practice!” I stated firmly, poking him in the forehead.

“Yes sir,” Izuku nodded, his eyes dipping as he took the light chastisement for what it was. “I mean... theory isn't bad or anything. It's all really interesting, actually! I never really even thought about metaphysics as its own discipline and the way it meshes with quirk-sciences from my world is fascinating-”

I grunted and nodded in all the right places for a few moments, then flicked his forehead again.

“Ow!” Izuku jerked, blinking at the twinge of pain before blushing again and slumping. “I was mumbling again, wasn't I?”

“While your tendency to spiral into subject-specific monologues is quite adorable,” I smirked, enjoying the boy's squirming, “we do have other things to do today, sadly.”

“Right! What's next, sensei?” He asked, eager for more work.

“Cool down exercises,” I advised him seriously. “I don't want your muscles locking up again like they did last week. After that I'll need your help behind the counter for a few things and then you're on recreation time.”

Like a bouncy ball, the boy's mood dipped again as his shoulders drooped. “B-but... I'm not tired at all! I could still do more work, or studying!”

I smacked him upside the head.

“We've had this conversation a hundred times and we'll have it a hundred more if we need to!” I shouted at the boy, genuinely irked. “Recreation time is recreation time! I'm not leaving you to brew broken bone juice on your own!”

“I still don't know what that even means!” Izuku whined piteously.

“It means I don't want you breaking your damn fool arms again practicing on your own!” I hissed with a scowl. “Now do your exercises, then clean yourself up, and I'll see you behind the counter.”

“H-hai!” Izuku squeaked weakly, and I shook my head as I trudged off.

That boy...

I'd say he wasn't as bad as I'd seen him in the anime, but in truth? Well, if anything, he was worse. I could entirely understand being the ugly duckling and not having a super power when everyone else around you did... then suddenly having access to not just a great power, but a power that had wide applications and scaled well in its development? Yeah, of course the kid would be eager to grow stronger and attain his dream!

“I just wish the little idiot would wait until he was in school before breaking his limbs,” I sighed, rubbing at my face tiredly. “At least then putting him back together wouldn't be my problem.”

“Oh-ho... sounds like you're having fun with your kid, at least.”

I rolled my eyes at the woman leaning over the counter and grinning at me. “Hello to you, too, Eda. I see you've shown yourself to the complimentary snack bowl.”

I eyed the much-diminished contents pointedly. “Again.”

“Hey, you leave out free food, don't be surprised if it gets eaten,” Edalyn Clawthorne smirked, one fang jutting past her lip. “Though I'd get something with a little more kick if you keep getting my crowd in here. Maybe a little sulphur or some nightshade? I had a little bit of that in the human world one time, it was pretty tasty.”

“I'll make a note of it,” I replied blandly. “Are you actually going to buy something this time or continue to freeload on my goodwill?”

“Hmm... I'll take... this...” Eda shrugged, picking up some of the hottest candy on the front counter displays and throwing it at me.

It was also cheap shit because I could never fucking move that inventory.

“Three snails,” I stated tiredly, snapping my fingers at her.

“Tch,” she clicked her tongue at me and dumped the living creatures her world used as currency into my palm. I grimaced, but dropped them into the cash register regardless. “Your exchange rate is shit.”

“Blame inflation, not me,” I sighed as she pocketed the candy.

“What, are you blowing up snails like balloons back there?” Eda asked, eyeing me oddly, but shaking her head and waving me off. “How's this work, anyway? You've conned enough snails out of my apprentice and her friends that I'm curious.”

I gave the woman a scowl and pointed a finger at her.

“I – DO NOT – CON.”

Eda's eyes crossed as she looked at my finger.

“I do not scam. I do not cheat. I do not short-change, swindle, defraud, or hoodwink,” I stated clearly and bluntly. “I am not allowed to do so, by the rules which govern the ownership and operation of this store. You should take care of your words, Edalyn Clawthorne, for I consider any aspersion upon the character of my trade to be a grave insult indeed.”

There was a faint quiver in the witch's heterochromatic gaze as she matched my own, a shiver that ran through her entire body.

“G-gotcha, Foxy,” she stated, her head jerking once in agreement.

I let my eyes linger for another moment, then relaxed my stance and turned back to my inventory work.

“So...” Eda drawled warily.

I snorted, shaking my head. “A big part of it is magic... or, well... what passes for magic, here.”

I gave a vague nod towards the environment around us and Eda frowned before thinking it over. “So it's like the Owl House, then? Alive?”

“From what Luz tells me of the place – somewhat, but not entirely,” I replied, a bit vaguely, then sighed at her insistent look. “The store's changed hands several times. I wasn't the first, I won't be the last. It's like the Owl House in that way, at least. Hooty's been there from long before your time and he'll be there long after you're dust.”

“Depressing, but true,” Eda shrugged. “How about something to drink, if we're getting heavy?”

“Hmm... how about apple cider with a nightshade twist? First one's on the house since I haven't mixed a cocktail like this before. You can be my taster,” I offered.

“As long as its alcoholic, I'll drink pretty much anything,” Eda shrugged. “Still, human stuff is always too thin for my tastes. Give me something with a real body, I say.”

Raising an eyebrow and deciding not to interrogate what context I was supposed to take the word 'body' in, I reached up and scratched my chin. “Do you like things sweet or sour?”

“Sweet!” Eda smirked, slamming a hand down on the bar. “As sweet as you can make it!”

“I'll start out with something more reasonable and go from there,” I hummed, reaching for the corn syrup and honey. If that didn't work, I'd go a little bit more exotic. There were plenty of magical bees and the like out there in the omniverse and I had pretty extensive collections of their creations.

“You were saying?” Eda prompted as I mixed the drink.

“Really not letting this go, huh?” I sighed. “It's complicated, but I'm as much part of the store as I am my own being. It's nothing like one of those 'I exist to serve the property' curses, but the store needs an owner. An operator. Someone to run the business housed within it.”

“Ahhh... it's like that, then,” Eda stated. “I've heard of something like that before. You probably can't leave, then?”

“Not until I find and train a replacement,” I shook my head. “But I got what I signed up for.”

“So if you don't con anyone, how do you decide what's a fair deal?” Eda asked.

I waved a sugar-coated spoon in the air at the room nebulously. “Remember what I said about magic? Well, while you're in the store, there are certain rules that even I can't break. One of those is that anyone who comes in here gets an honest deal as long as they deal with me honestly.”

“Lotta room there for interpretation,” Eda commented, drumming her fingers on the table as I finished off the mix and slid the drink to her. “Oooh, come to mama!”

She took a healthy pull from the glass, swallowed slowly, and then smacked her lips thoughtfully.

“So?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Not bad,” Eda stated thoughtfully as she swirled the thick liquid about in the glass. “Still not quite enough bite to it, though.”

“The taste or the booze?” I asked wryly.

“Hmm... booze,” Eda decided, taking another sip and rolling it on her tongue. “Definitely booze.”

I reached for the pure, uncut moonshine, then paused and pulled both it and a bottle of wood-grain alcohol out.

Look, don't ask. I got some weird customers and it was especially popular with dryads.

Filling two shotglasses, I pushed them both out. “I've asked around with some of the customers Luz has sent my way from the Boiling Isles and this is generally considered safe for witches and demons to drink. Which one do you prefer?”

“I make it a policy to never turn down a free drink,” Eda grinned, downing the moonshine first and blowing out a cloud of vapor I made sure I was distant enough to not inhale before shooting the other one back as well. “Woof! That's a winner! Second one, definitely! The first's better than I've ever had in the human world, I'll grant you that, but it's just...”

“Not actually poisonous,” I concluded glibly. “Yeah, straight methanol is poisonous to standard human biology. Alright then, let's try this one more time...”

“While you're doing that, explain how you... tell how much something is worth, I guess?” Eda asked, finishing off the imperfect cocktail I'd created. “However you know what to charge people is what I'm getting at. What's 'fair' and 'honest,' to you?”

“Determined almost entirely by gut feeling,” I replied, whipping up the drink faster this time. This time, knowing what I was doing, it came out cleaner as well, turning into some kind of dark mirror of a tequila sunrise. The color gradient shifted between black and purple instead of red and yellow.

“Really?” Eda asked, her golden eye's brow rising skeptically. “You're shitting me.”

“Nope,” I replied with a snort, sliding the drink over to her. “You know how things fall to the ground when you drop them? Fairness is kind of like that in this little pocket of reality. It's something that you have to try really hard to break and there are always consequences even if you manage to accomplish it.”

“And since you're tied to the store, your 'gut feeling' is actually magical instinct,” Eda surmised, taking a sip of her new drink. Then, as the flavor hit her tongue, her eyes widened. “Now that's what I'm talking about! It's not gonna' replace a tall glass of apple blood, but variety is the spice of life!”

“Happy to hear,” I smiled, “the next one will cost you real money. I think I'll call it a 'Methanol Sunset.'”

Eda winced, her cheer evaporating at that reminder. “Ugh, spoilsport! So I've seen you handle that green paper Luz and her momma use, some plastic rectangles, a few gold coins, and another thing or two besides. How's that work when you always have exact change?”

I reached out and patted the cash register. “Conceptual store of value. No matter what I put in, it gets converted into raw value. I can withdraw it in the form of any currency a customer perceives as having value. Even bitcoin.”

“Bits of coin? Like pieces of eight from that pirate movie Luz loves?” Eda asked. “Why would those be hard?”

I paused, briefly regretted my life choices, then shook my head. “Nevermind. It gets a little more difficult and abstract for goods used in barter, like rare art, gemstones, exotic flora and fauna, etc...”

“Well, at least you don't try to math it out. Ugh, formulas... they take all the magic out of magic,” Eda sighed, shaking her head and sipping her drink.

Then the door opened and a harried middle-aged man ran inside, ducking between the isles and diving into cover. Right on his heels, a trio of thugs hurried in through the open door, guns already drawn. The lead thug stalled out, looking around my shop. No prizes for what he was seeking, though.

“Greetings gentlemen!” I called out loudly, smiling a touch tiredly. “Welcome to Nova's! I'm Nova Sterling, the owner and proprietor-”

“Shut the fuck up, freak!” Lead thug shouted, shoving a gun in my face. “Someone just ran in here, where'd they go?”

“Violence is forbidden in my store,” I informed him tiredly with a sigh. “Now that you've been informed-”

Interrupting me again – which, rude – he reached out to grab at the collar of my suit.

I rolled my eyes and snapped my fingers.

He disappeared.

“What the fuck?!” Thug number two cried, looking away from where he'd been creeping around, trying to find. “Where'd Jose go!?”

“Violence is forbidden in my store,” I repeated tiredly. “Now that you've-”

He pulled the trigger – well, he tried to – and I snapped my fingers again.

“Another one down, another one down, another one bites the dust,” I sighed, turning to the last thug. “Violence in my store is forbidden in my store. Okay, pattern recognition: yes or no?”

He twitched in a way that I'd long-since learned to associate with drug use of some sort and pulled his own trigger.

I snapped my fingers once more and he disappeared, too. “The answer is no, then. Awesome. Ugh, I hate it when that happens. Criminals are just so fucking stupid.”

“Where'd they go?” Eda asked mildly, her tone simply curious instead of worried or concerned.

“Processing,” I shrugged. “Once you're informed of my prohibition against violence, I can do basically anything I want to you if you violate it. I'll keep the organs in stasis in case someone shows up and needs a transplant, I generally charge less for that than cybernetics.”

“Good riddance to bad waste,” Eda shrugged. “You come into a place with guns drawn and ignore the warnings, you pay the price for that kind of stupidity.”

“Thanks for understanding,” I sighed again and adjusted my collar. “A lot of people freak out when they find out how I treat rule-breakers. Oh, and don't tell Izuku, I'm trying to slowly warm him up to the topic.”

“Don't have to tell me twice,” Eda groaned, finishing off her drink. “I love the kid to bits, but Luz hasn't quite internalized how silly the whole 'redemption' thing is in her books. Girl needs to learn that the only safe enemy is a dead one.”

“Uh... hello?”

Eda and I looked at the balding man stepping out from behind the isle. He was slightly pudgy, wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt with an expression worn by constant worry. Of course, his overall appearance wasn't helped by the streaks of sweat on this clothing that had formed from running for his life.

“My name is Nova Sterling,” I repeated, desperately hopeful that the person running from the murderous assholes would be smarter than the assholes themselves. “Welcome to my store. It exists in between worlds. I sell magic and advanced technology and all sorts of cool shit. You're speaking American English, so you're probably familiar with Peter Pan. If you are, think of it like Neverland. Violence is strictly forbidden in my establishment.”

The man blinked rapidly at my quick rundown, but did not pull a gun and try to shoot me.

I took the victories where I could.

“Uhh... are Marco's boy's... gone?” He asked warily, looking around.

“Yes,” I nodded. “Very permanently gone. What is your name and would you like to buy anything?”

“What?” He blinked.

Eda snorted and clanked her glass down on the bar. “It's a store, toe-fungus. Are you a paying customer or a bum?”

“Ah...” The man looked me over, then Eda, and swallowed nervously. “This ain't like... those stories or anything where you ask for my firstborn, is it?”

“I have more than enough children here crawling around the store on a regular basis, thank you very much,” I informed the man, much to Eda's amusement. “I don't need any of yours. Now, do you have a name or do I need to give you one? Fair warning, if you make me get creative I will never acknowledge you by any other name than the one I give you.”

“Barry!” The man cried, raising his hands in surrender, then sighing. “Barry Seal. And... um, thanks for taking care of those guys. They were really out for my blood.”

“No problem Barry,” I replied and slid him a coke from behind the counter. “On the house for a new prospective customer. Wet your whistle and we'll see if I can help you, okay?”

“Thanks,” Barry nodded, exhaling deeply in relief and cracking the drink with the ease of long practice before taking a big slurp. “God, I needed that... this isn't going to cost me my soul, is it?”

It was telling that the man looked so resigned and tired that the question was only put forth with a feeble air of protest. I shook my head and leaned on the bar across from him. “No, that's complimentary, like I said. The quick version of things? I'm a spirit of commerce, buying and selling things, not a devil or a demon or whatever. I do trade in souls, but only upfront deals. Unless you're looking to sell, I'm not looking to buy. In the event you want to buy something, though, I take cash, credit cards, checks, and barter exchange for rare metals, valuable artwork, or the like.”

Barry twitched, then took another sip of his coke, “I'll... keep my soul, thanks. Though I don't have much money, the feds have frozen all my bank accounts.”

“That's not a problem,” I waved him off, opening my mouth to continue when-

“I'm all done washing up, sir!” Izuku called from the back room, his green hair making an appearance momentarily. “Hey Eda, how's Luz-oh! Excuse me, I didn't know we had a customer!”

“Hey, I buy things!” Eda spoke up, looking affronted.

The young Japanese boy opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it, then turned to Barry. “Sorry for interrupting, Mr. Customer. Nova, I'll get to organizing the stockroom, if that's okay?”

“Make sure you handle the new potions we just got in carefully,” I cautioned him. “They aren't in the usual unbreakable containers. Just regular glass. I do not need you turning yourself into a frog or something.”

He winced and nodded. “I'll be careful, sir.”

Nodding at Barry as Izuku disappeared, I pointed a thumb over my shoulder. “Don't mind the kid, he's just part-time help.”

“Right, right... did he have green hair?” Barry asked, leaning over towards the doorway, then he shook himself. “No, none of my business. Anyway, you were saying something? About the banks?”

“You have your account and routing numbers?” I asked, and he nodded after a moment's thought. “Then I can access them from here.”

“I... don't think the banks or the feds would like that,” Barry winced, then laughed. “At least, not unless you can sell me an entirely new life.”

I hummed, tabulating costs in my head. “How much you got?”

Barry blinked, hesitating... then nodded. “Over five million. You can help me?”

“What year are you from?” I asked, pulling out a metal and gears contraption that passed for a calculator some days.

“Nineteen eighty-five,” Barry replied, the words spilling out of his mouth knee-jerk before he paused to consider what that meant. “Uhh... do I wanna know why you asked me that?”

“I'll let you know if it becomes relevant,” I promised him, then reached out and tapped the long slate at the other end of the machine from where I was entering numbers. “Hand here, please. Just lay your palm flat on it.”

“Oh... kay...” Barry muttered, doing so.

I hummed and finished out the calculations on the device. Five million was good news for him, especially with his world-line being what it was. He'd come from a mostly-standard USA and inflation hadn't hit things too badly yet. “Alright... so, here's the deal. I can work with this. First and foremost, do I have permission to transfer your funds from your bank accounts into store credit?”

“Sure,” Barry shrugged, “not like I'll ever see a dime of it anyway, given how long they want to put me away for.”

“Okay, service charge of a quarter of one percent comes out to a hundred and twenty-five dollars,” I warned him, printing out a quick slip and snapping a pen into existence. “Sign here, please.”

Barry, to his credit, read over the slip before signing it and handing it back. “Just like that? Magic and shit, I guess.”

“Magic and shit,” I confirmed. “The rules for how money works are a bit different when you come to me. In my shop, I don't acknowledge the laws of God or Man. So, metaphysically-speaking, as long as the money is in an account under your name or one which you – personally – have permission to withdraw from, I can pull it out and use it in any transaction you want.”

“Well that's certainly handy,” Barry commented, “and all the stories always said magic just caused more problems than it solves.”

“Oh, magic can cause you plenty of problems if you're stupid with it,” Eda chuckled, “and that's speaking as a witch, so take my word for it.”

“Damn,” Barry muttered, looking the admittedly strange woman over again, then looking me over. “Will this cause me problems? Like, nasty Monkey's Paw or genie-related ones?”

“A question far too few of my patrons bother to contemplate,” I remarked as I finalized everything. “The answer is a conditional no. The condition is that, if you legitimately want a new life, you have to break any and all contact with your old one until you die. That means no talking to friends, no contacting family, no taking a nostalgic trip down memory lane to your favorite childhood restaurant, and definitely no drunken benders where you become so inebriated that you decide to spill your life story to a total stranger who will contact the police.”

“That seems... oddly specific,” Barry observed. “Also, what about my wife and kids? Do I have to leave them?”

“In reverse order: no, as long as they're willing to abide by the same restrictions in starting over as well. If they aren't, though, then they become the children or husband of a dead man, effectively. It would, in fact, be arguably kinder on them to fake your own death – a service which I also offer, if you like.” I paused to hit a few keys. “Okay, transaction's done and I've got all your money in a store credit account. Now, as far as the drunken confession thing? Happens more often than you'd believe. Criminals can be extremely stupid.”

“I think I should take offense at that,” Barry noted, then winced. “I mean...”

Eda laughed out loud. “Relax... Foxy here and I had your number the moment guys with guns chased you in here. It's weird, but I've seldom met law-abiding citizens who have hit squads after them.”

“Ah... right,” Barry rubbed at his head. “Does that – I mean, are you okay with-”

“Considering I just violated probably a dozen federal laws to move your money for you?” I asked rhetorically. “Besides, I'm just making a guess, but people with huge amounts of money that get seized by federal authorities and are being chased by men with guns... that usually says 'drug-runner' to me.”

“It's nice to know some things don't change whether you're in the Demon Realm or the Human one,” Eda grinned. “Why, if I had a snail for every time the guard or the emperor's coven tried to stop me from bringing illegal potion ingredients into the cities... ha! That's some classic high-risk, high-reward stuff, human!”

“Thanks?” Barry asked, startled at the unexpected turn of events.

“And you're trying to get out of the life, so I'm fairly sympathetic,” I added, continuing as if Eda hadn't spoken. “If you were weren't trying to bail on the criminal organization that's inevitably trying to backstab you for cutting a deal with the police-”

“I was actually employed by the CIA,” Barry interrupted. “They kind of got me to run drugs and arms down to this dictator they were supporting and, to get the cartel's permissions, I had to run their drugs back to the states. Once everything went public, though, they burned me and left me out to dry with the cartels.”

“Oh, government corruption on top of smuggling, this is getting spicy!” Eda cackled.

“Yeah, look... the sympathy is encouraging and everything, but can we talk about that whole 'new life' thing?” Barry asked, a tad anxiously.

“Right, okay...” I reached down and worked my way through a few cabinets before I found what I was looking for and laid out a small stack of brochures in front of him. “I have four different plans for people looking to change their identities. The first is the bronze plan, it's the cheapest option, costs fifty-k, and includes an entirely new personal history backed up by real documents that will, themselves, be backed up in government records and virtually bulletproof to anyone at a passing or detailed inspection. The problem arises if they get access to things like your DNA, dental records, hair samples, or fingerprints. If that happens, they can prove that you and Harold Johnson from Bumfuck, Iowa are the same person.”

“And if I don't want that?” Barry asked, tapping at the bar nervously. “One of the more expensive plans?”

“Silver plan,” I nodded, pushing the second brochure forward. “One-hundred thousand per person, but in addition to everything in the bronze plan, I also offer some superficial plastic surgery and what's called a 'gene-scrambler.' It won't make you appear to be someone else, but the tests won't come back conclusively. Your prints will likewise be scrambled and I'll give you some light dental restructuring to make sure of that as well. Hair, similarly.”

“Gold?” Barry asked, fingering the next brochure.

“This is where things get a little more exotic and attend to the details regarding starting a new life,” I informed him. “Bronze and silver plans only cover the person who buys them, but I start offering family discounts at the gold tier. At this level of service, I'll secure you a new place to live – discreetly, of course – and provide you a new identity down to the genetic level. I'll also provide you with a set of new skills to go along with a new profession so you don't have to go straight back to your old one and possibly meet up with colleagues who could recognize some of your habits or quirks. As an ancillary bonus, I'll set you up with a few club and organization memberships in your new area that will flesh things out and make it easier for you to forge new social connections.”

“You said family discount?” He asked, rubbing at his chin.

“I did,” I nodded, “because I can go redundant on a lot of things, like the house and the background. It's easier weaving everything together when I don't have to do each and every single profile from scratch. So a lot of the extra work I do at this tier is doubled-up. I try to be reasonable and pass on that break to the customer with a ten-percent cut on the fees.”

“This, uh... platinum level offers the same discount?” Barry asked, looking at the final set of details.

“Yes, like the gold plan, this attends to a lot of the potential problems you face starting your life over, but this is where things get... exotic,” I warned the man idly. “That means magic and the extremely advanced technology being used on other people in mostly beneficial ways. Before we go any further, I should ask if you have any objections to that?”

Barry frowned and hesitated. “Can you give an example of what you mean?”

“Okay, you said you had a wife?” I asked, and he nodded. “So let's say she enjoys jogging, right? Just as an example. But jogging alone can be boring and a lot of ladies enjoy having friends turn exercise into a social activity.”

“Proud to be an exception to both rules,” Eda snorted, throwing another handful of free snacks in her mouth. “Exercise and society.”

“The peanut gallery aside,” I sent a mild glare at the witch. “I find a woman in your new area that could use a bit more exercise, wants to, but can't find the motivation. I give her body a little kick-start to get healthier so that starting out doesn't suck so much, and throw in some memories of her being friends with your spouse. Bam, she's got a new social connection, her new friend will probably live a decade longer with regular exercise, and this person will swear up and down that they've known your wife for years. In fact, you've lived in the area for a long time, you just had to take an extended business trip out of the country and just got back.”

“Damn,” Barry hissed. “That's tempting, but I don't know if Debby will go for it.”

“As part of the gold and platinum packages, I should also add that I throw in a genetic rehabilitation while I'm imprinting the new genes,” I commented idly. “It's easier to make someone look older, after all, but a lot harder to make them look younger. This is a step beyond even that, though, and will make you look and feel like you've turned back the clock a bit. Ten years for gold and twenty for platinum.”

Barry whistled appreciatively. “That's... a lot to take in, and I think it would probably get her to at least consider things...”

“The gold plan also comes with a free foreign language if you decide you'd be better off moving somewhere else. Not many people go for it, but I can make you look pretty radically different, such as changing your apparent racial characteristics at that tier. If you wanted to move to, say... Australia, I could make it look like you're half-aboriginal, for instance and give you the language to prove it. Platinum comes with two foreign languages and, in addition to that, I'll find a bunch of people in your new area to implant some harmless memories in that will give you a few childhood friends, people you know at the local pub, or work connections in your new field.”

“Five hundred thousand per person and a million per person, each...” Barry rumbled, looking at the pricing.

“With the ten percent discount,” I pointed out.

“I'm gonna' have to talk to my wife about this,” he admitted, rubbing his chin again, then grimaced as he looked back to where the door had closed behind the thugs. “Ugh, but going back out there...”

“How about I hook you up with a rental disguise field and some basic fake paperwork as a stopgap?” I asked. “I can do that for... say, five thousand? I'll throw in a cheap rental car for free as long as you get it back to me with a full tank and no damage.”

“You're literally a lifesaver, man,” Barry reached out and shook my hand. “Nova, wasn't it?”

“Nova Sterling,” I replied grinning, “now let's get you a doorknocker so you can find your way back here and I'll set you up with what you need in the short-term.”

~~~

So, little late on this one, but it's probably still the weekend somewhere.

I forgot my brother and his wife were coming in to celebrate her birthday, so that ate up some time and I had to go to sleep at a decent hour like some kind of respectable human being instead of staying up all night writing like usual.

Anyway! Hope everyone had a great weekend and enjoys the new chapter. For those of you curious, this chapter is based on the real story of Barry Seal. If you're looking for a cliff notes version of things, check out the movie 'American Made' that came out a few years ago documenting his escapades.

Next update will be Butler Boy!