A Rumble of Frost chapter 4

New York City, Club Impulse , February 11th 2001, 6:00 PM EDT

After  talking through things with Betty and helping Peter get settled, I  headed home with a few hundred bucks in my pocket. Peter had been paid a  signing bonus for getting the site up, and he insisted on splitting it  with me. I wasn't in a position to turn that down, so I just promised to  pay him back when I made some of the cash back. The few hundred was  enough for a sleeping bag, some pillows, some toiletries, and some food,  which put me in a way better position than I had been in before, with  another two hundred and fifty bucks on top of that.

I  decided to invest the money into buying some info on the local crime  scene, hoping I could find a stash house. Hell, even if someone tipped  off the local gangs and they came after me, I was living in a warehouse.  Being pretty much bulletproof would make any assault pointless. I  brought along my camera too, because I was hoping to get some pictures  of myself in action. It could take video, so all I had to do was aim it  at the place and make a big scene, then snag it when I was done. I'd  have to figure out how to cut the clips, but I bet Peter could teach me  that.

After  texting Gwen that I got the job and asking her to hang out the next day  to celebrate (my treat) I set aside fifty of the two fifty for a date  night and took the other two hundred out on the town to buy myself some  info. I considered a few of the possible options, but eventually decided  I'd hit a club and try to find some kind of in there. I spent some of  the two hundred buying some fresh clothes, then headed for the nearest  club I could find, a place called 'Impulse'.

Impulse  was big and loud and incredibly crowded, but funny thing about being  six foot nine and made of muscle, people tend not to crowd you. I was  able to get in pretty easily, and I found myself on the receiving end of  several very friendly smiles from pretty girls, and a few guys too,  though I only really returned the former. I didn't have anything against  guys checking me out, but I wasn't into men, so I tried not to  encourage flirting by giving a positive response to stares.

I  danced with a few girls, bought a drink or two (no one ever ID's  someone my size) and after some light chit chat finally found my way to  someone who could probably help. The guy who I got pointed at was named  Jeremy, and he was pretty much the definition of a club druggie. Long  hair, sunglasses, stylish clothes and a wide smile, Jeremy was the kind  of person who got invited to a lot of high school parties and gave away  'free samples' to get his dick sucked.

When  he saw me approaching in pretty decent clothes I'd gotten from a thrift  shop, his wide smile hit me in full force. "Whoa, look at you big man.  How's the air up there?" He joked lamely. "What can I help you with,  amigo? I was just about to hit the dance floor with my friend Mandi  here." He reached out and pinched one of the girls sitting around his  booth on the ass, getting a squeak and a playful bat at his hand. "You  need something? Or can we talk this out later?"

I  pulled out my last hundred and showed it to him. He chuckled and waved  the girls off. Mandi tried to slip her hand in his pocket but he smacked  it away, and she pouted as she slunk off. I dropped into the booth.  "I'm here looking for something. Something a little special. I'm not  sure if you have it, but I'm willing to pay a finder's fee if you can  help me track down someone who does. Is that something you might be  interested in?"

This  was probably not the MOST subtle way to get info, but I wasn't too  worried. This guy was a small time dealer, so there was no chance he  didn't know whose territory to avoid. Telling other people to avoid them  or sending customers their way wouldn't be a big imposition. Big scary  stash houses were full of big scary men with big scary guns. What kind  of suicidal moron would attack somewhere like that? Not to mention even  if he managed to remember this in his obvious drug induced haze, he  wasn't going to tell whoever I hit that he'd given me their address.

Still,  I decided to play the game and give him some deniability. A mysterious  drug that he couldn't find would be a good excuse. I was sure I could  find something to ask for he didn't have. My friend and sometimes fuck  buddy Alison back in Chicago was a total club bunny. She'd loved telling  me stories about her adventures at raves and shit, and we'd even  dropped acid together once, though mom had found out and threatened to  expel Alison from her Academy if she gave me anything else.

I  started combing through my memories of things Ali had said. "I'm  looking for tabs of K-36. Do you know anyone that might have it?" K-36  was a synthetic ketamine. Apparently stayed in your system longer than  the normal stuff and stopped the body from building a tolerance. It was a  high end drug, and I knew he wouldn't have it. The local distributor  MIGHT have it, and if he didn't the money and the fact that I knew what  to ask for might convince Jeremy to point me his way.

Jeremy  gave a low whistle. "Damn. K-36 is expensive shit. You sure you have  the green for that, compadre? I have more than a few party favors I can  hook you up with." He shot me a wink exaggerated enough to be visible  behind the shades. "Plus a few girls who might like to share. You're a  big boy, that'll be popular. Poor Mandi looked a little sad to get  shuffled off, but I bet if you let her do a line of coke off your dick  her opinion of you will change real quick."

Mandi  had been kind of sexy, but it wasn't that tempting. I didn't need to  shell out cash to take home a girl from this club. I was here for a  reason, and I could always come back to find some tail another time. I  just shook my head. "If you don't have the stuff, like I said, just  point me at someone who does." I waved the hundred. "I'm a generous guy.  Once I get my info you can have the hundred free and clear."

Most  dealers, at least according to Ali. Had to reserve part of their take  to pay for their next resupply. Money like this, uninvolved with the  actual drugs, he could just pocket. Assuming he was independent and not  shelling for someone else, in which case he might need to account for  his product. Hell, I didn't know how New York worked, maybe they made  their dealers fill our ledgers and give receipts.

"Yeah,  ok man." He said after a minute. "I know a spot." He reached into a  pocket and pulled out an honest to got pen and paper, jotting down a few  lines and passing it over. "That's my boy Hector's place. He doesn't  usually deal directly from his house, but K-36 is high end product. For a  sale like that he'll be willing to meet. Be polite though, Hector  always keeps a few big boys around to keep everyone...civil."

I  passed him my last hundred bucks, annoyed that between bribing the  bouncer and my damn drink I'd cleaned myself out except for my date  money for Gwen. Still, I had some information now, and that was worth  blowing some money. If Hector was selling high end club drugs like the  shit Ali took, he no doubt had a pretty decent stock of cash. I thanked  Jeremy and left the club, heading out on foot towards Hector's place.

On  the way I stopped at a sporting goods store, buying a hockey mask, a  thick coat with a fleece lined hood, and a pair of leather gloves. I  paid with cash and picked a mom and pop place with no cameras. I had to  dip into my date funds, but I wanted to avoid getting hauled off to  prison for this, so a mask would be necessary. Then I stopped across the  street from Hector's place and set up the camera to record.

I  aimed it so I wouldn't be visible when it started and then came in from  the side so it looked like the masked figure had no relation to the  camera man, making sure the thing was hidden away where no one would  find and steal it. Granted, I was about to make a huge mess here, so it  seemed unlikely to come up. No one was going to be looking for a camera  when I was done. I'd just need to approach from the back when I picked  it up so there was no footage of me reclaiming it.

Once  that was done, I walked up to the front of the place and considered my  options. Hector lived in a slightly run down brownstone. It looked like  he kept the place secured, bars on the windows and all, so I could be a  bit rough with my entrance and it would seem justified. I considered how  to crack the place. I could always use my tremors to tear the building  in half, but that would damage the surrounding street. Direct seemed  better.

I  walked up to the door and focused on my hand. The familiar white glow of  a hypocenter appeared around my fist, and I raised it to the space in  front of the door, level with the front of the building. "Knock knock  motherfuckers!" I swung my fist at the air, and there was a cracking  sound as the hypocenter smashed into the space in front of me. Cracks of  light spread through the air around my fist, only about a foot around,  but that was more than the six inches this trick had used to max out at.

The  cracks began to pulse with light for a few seconds, and as I withdrew  my fist, the tremors I'd smashed into the air were released, tearing  through the facade of the building along the lines of the cracks I'd  just made. The middle of the strike point was a fucking crater in the  wall, and the bricks and metal of the front of the building hung jagged  and exposed in front of me.

I  stepped into the front room, and noticed the bottom floor was open  concept. About seven huge men with very heavy weapons pointed their guns  at me, eyes wide with shock and fear. I held up a fist, condensing  another hypocenter. "Listen fuckers." I paused, remembering the camera.  "I'm here to like...bring you to justice and shit. Put down your guns  and I'll let the police take you away nice and peaceful, shoot me and  I'm going to do the same thing to your bones I did to that wall.  Seriously. Don't do it. It won't work and it annoys me."

There  was a loud gunshot and everyone turned to a skinny tweaker looking guy  with brown hair and a whispy bears. He was wearing a stained tank top  and holding a fifty caliber handgun with smoke rising from the barrel. I  grimaced. Fifties actually kind of hurt. At least he aimed center mass.  My sternum was more than up to tanking that. If he'd shot me in the  skull my head would have been aching for hours. I sighed and reached up  to pry the deformed slug off my chest. There was a very small amount of  blood where it had broken the skin, but the bone stopped it cold.

"Oh  shit man!" Said tweaker beard. "I didn't mean to do that I swear. That  shit just went off." He held up both hands, slowly lowering the gun to  the ground. "Please don't crush my bones. I swear I didn't mean it." His  eyes started to water. "Oh god man, this is so fucking messed up. I  just wanted to make some extra cash to help pay for my brother's oboe  lessons. I didn't sign up to fight no bullet proof giants with  superpowers."

He  looked about ready to bolt, but the accidental shooting appeared to be a  blessing in disguise. I lowered my voice, knowing the camera was far  enough away that even with the sound enhanced as I was sure it would be,  it wouldn't pick up my low murmur. "Alright. Here's how this goes. I  want your money. You bring me the money, I don't kill all of you and  just take it. I'm sure fine upstanding drug dealers like yourselves have  good lawyers, and there's no way this holds up in court. You'll be out  in a few hours, maybe a few hundred pounds of product light from the  police raid."

The  only man in the place without a gun, a clean cut latino guy in a white  t-shirt, sighed. "Man. You don't want to do this. We won't fight you, we  aren't crazy, and we don't make enough to deal with freaks, but this  product comes from someone else. Wilson Fisk bankrolls me. You heard of  him? The Kingpin? He doesn't like when up and comers fuck with his crew.  He has some bad asses on the payroll too.You can take the cash, but  living to spend it is a whole other issue."

I  did NOT know who Wilson Fisk was. I did know that I couldn't punk out  here or I'd lose any chance at starting a rep, I just stared at him and  he sighed. "Fine. Your funeral. Just figured I'd warn you. Property  damage or not you could have killed Trevor for that slip. Most people  would have. I'm Hector, by the way. In case you grow a sense of self  preservation and decide to return the money later." He looked over at  another, much larger latino. "Rico, go get the man his money."

Rico,  a muscle bound guy only a few inches shorter than me waving a tech nine  of all things, nodded and turned to head upstairs. I waited there, fist  raised. As he walked I reached into my pocket and dialed the cops. When  the line picked up I gave them the address and told them I'd found a  bunch of people with a large amount of narcotics and a ton of illegal  guns there and some lunatic had blown the front of the building open.

Hector  rolled his eyes as he listened, looking more annoyed than afraid. Rico  got back three minutes later, and I grabbed a bag full of cash, leafing  through it to check for bugs. I found a transponder sewed into the  lining of the bag and raised an eyebrow before crushing it to dust with a  tiny hypocenter. I waved at them. "Alright, I'm out. If you talk to  this Fist guy, tell him Cataclysm says hello. I'm the new hero in town  and I'm sure we'll be meeting soon."

I  turned and walked off before looping around to grab the camera from out  of frame. I stopped the recording with a pleased smile. Then I frowned.  Fuck, I was a really obvious height. This would be super transparent if  I turned it in. Oh well, I had cash now, I could figure something else  out for my first photography assignment. In the meantime, I had to get  out of here. I head the cops pull up as Hector and the others tried to  bolt through the hole. They had been waiting for me to leave but I timed  it perfectly. Time to go back to the warehouse and count my haul. Being  a hero was awesome.