SOM - Chapter 43 - Albanian Standoff

In a previous life, the sight of five gun-toting men would have sent chills down Luke's spine. Now, the sight was more annoying than anything else. The weapons were a mismatch: a farmer's shotgun, a pair of antique-looking AK-47s, a 3D-printed pistol, and a large machete wielded by the fifth man.

Considering the illegal weapons and face masks, the men were clearly criminals, and ones to whom violence was no stranger. Luke held up a hand to stop Nate and Surya before they revealed their presence. 

From the looks of it the gang had just arrived, and were still getting their bearings. Luke could see them shouting at one another, trying to be heard over the storm. 

In the wake of Nate’s spell-casting, it was louder than ever. 

There was a brief back and forth where Luke tried to communicate in an improvised form of sign language. It soon devolved into crude pointing where any subtle meanings were lost.

Luke shepherded the party back a short distance, into a crack in the cliff face where they could hear each other, but couldn’t be overheard.

“If they’re here, what’s happened to Sarah and the others?” Surya asked, the hitch in her voice suggested she didn’t really want to know the answer.

"They're probably fine for now," Nate said, though he didn't sound very confident. "The gangs have been establishing new territories and shaking people down for protection, not indiscriminately killing everyone." 

“Are you guys the only ones above level five? You could check their market listings,” Luke suggested.

Surya's eyes widened. "Yes! Good idea," she said, pulling up the listings on her interface. "Sarah and Ana hit level five on their last rift rotation. Let's see... I don't see Sarah's, but she said she was going to hold on to her items. Anabanana has a couple of things still listed; for some reason, only Nate's junk has been selling."

As the person buying up all of Nate’s loot, Luke found it amusing to hear it referred to as junk. He had originally believed his brother was cornering the market on some rare resources, not just flogging every bit of crap he came across.

At least his purchases had allowed Nate to gear himself up. 

Knowing that at least one flatmate was alive tempered Luke’s initial inclination to kill all the gangsters.

When did I become so violent, Luke wondered. 

His slaughter of dungeon denizens was something he had rationalised away, but now he was contemplating murdering actual living human beings. At that moment, Luke realised that if it came down to it he was willing to kill to protect himself, and those he loved. The instinct didn’t even come from his [Murderhobo] domain; it was Luke’s natural reaction.

It was a somewhat chilling epiphany.

Rather than ponder the philosophy of murder, Luke moved to go out in the storm once more, to face the gang. They were unlikely to be shining beacons of morality, but he resolved to avoid killing blows if he could help it. 

Fenn disapproved.

It took a little convincing for Luke to persuade Nate and Surya to let him go on ahead, but the fight against the giant [Rock Crab] had demonstrated that Luke was durable if nothing else. Combined with his high level, and heavy armour he was the obvious choice to approach the intruders. 

Nate argued that the party should approach together, but Luke was adamant that having the couple accompany him would be a liability. They would be better suited watching from afar, where they could intervene if needed.

After checking that his armour was topped up with fire-aspected aether, Luke decided to make a dramatic entrance. He jumped into the air, now somewhat accustomed to staying balanced amongst the winds with the armour’s jet boosters and his stored momentum. 

Luke angled down, aiming his landing in the centre of the group.

The rock pool splashed loudly on his arrival, drawing the attention of three of the five men. The other two, unable to hear over the storm, turned when their companions shouted and the gangster with the shotgun let loose with both barrels.

Modern weaponry made metal armour obsolete centuries ago, but despite its resemblance to plate armour of old, [Lundheim’s Legacy] was anything but obsolete.

Luke wasn't able to activate [Brace] in time to minimise the impact, but the runic protections were able to activate in time, and metal bullets dropped to the floor as melted puddles.

Maybe I should have introduced myself first, Luke thought as the other gangsters raised their weapons.

"Don't shoot," Luke said, but when the man holding the 3D printed pistol unloaded his clip at Luke, he decided he was going to have to prove a point.

By feeding aether into his [Singularity], and activating [Epicentre], he could knock two of the gangsters to their knees and threw off the aim of the AK-47 wielding men. 

With a burst of stored kinetic energy, Luke dashed towards one man holding a rifle and, with his spare hand, grabbed the gun and yanked it across. He sent it to his storage space, much to the weapon's dismay, and using a two-handed grip, brought the rifle down on his armoured knee, snapping it in two.

He took a moment to identify the suddenly unarmed man in front of him.

[Level 5 human - A mortal. Core domains: Firearms, Tyrant, Venom.] 

It was an odd mix of domains, but the gangster was only level five. They had probably killed a few monsters, but it was a little unimpressive if the gang was monopolizing rifts as Luke had been led to believe.

"I just want to talk, but I'll break your gun too if you don't get it out of my face," Luke said as the second AK-47 was pointed at his face. He stared down the barrel.

Luke had faith in Rurik's craftsmanship, but the visor was a weak spot, and he had no desire to test if his [Endurance] enhanced forehead could deflect a bullet if one got through the energy shield.

"What do you want?" the man in front of him said in an Eastern European accent. Luke would have guessed that it was an Albanian accent, based in part on the knowledge that it was the Albanian mafia that ran a lot of the drugs through London.

"Me? I was just exploring, this is my rift after all," Luke said in what he hoped was an intimidating voice. As he spoke, he discovered a new function of the runes adorning his armour as they amplified his words. It also distorted his voice such that he sounded more like a demon than a man.

Luke felt a crude [Identify] press against his aura. He recalled what he had been told about the use of the ability being akin to asking for a fight, but he let it slide. He had scanned them first after all. 

Perhaps knowledge of how large the gulf in power between him and these gangsters would be sufficient to de-escalate the situation.

"This postcode is under the protection of the Petrela family. First right of conquest goes to the family for all rifts in our territory," the man said.

"This flat is under the protection of the Evans family. First right of fucking off goes to anyone I tell to fuck off," Luke said, pausing for a second before leaning forwards an inch. "So, fuck off."

Though he didn't have much of a way with words, Luke was confident that his meaning had come across correctly. The thought of these thugs shooting his brother drew out Luke’s darker side. 

Part of him wondered at the wisdom of pissing off an organisation of unknown size and firepower capabilities. Though not quite as infamous as Mexico's cartels, the Albanian mafia had a nasty reputation of their own. 

Luke leaned in even further until the tip of the rifle was literally inches from his face.

Backing down wasn’t an option. He could hardly claim to be the apex of humanity if a few petty criminals cowed him.

After a tense standoff, the Albanians finally relented, lowering their weapons. Inwardly Luke breathed out a small sigh of relief, but at the same time felt a surge of disappointment. His inner [Murderhobo] had been looking for an excuse to indulge and within his soul space he could feel Fenn’s bloodlust.

The immediate hostilities had subsided, but the Albanians didn't make a move to leave the rift. Through his party link, Luke could feel Surya and Nate just out of sight along the rocky cliff path. They had used the commotion to approach even closer and were hidden behind a rocky outcropping just off the beach.

Despite his tough words, Luke didn't really care about the flat or even about the rift. All he really needed to do was get Nate and, by extension, his fiancée out.

If the flat was no longer a safe environment, it made things both simpler and more complicated.

It was simpler because he had been considering making the tide pools his base of operations, and having a violent gang on his doorstep was a big tick in the negative column. Things then became more complicated because now Luke needed to visit his mother and meet up with Frank with Nate and Surya in tow. Nate would probably insist that the rest of his flatmates came too.

"Why aren't you leaving?" Luke said as he fed his [Singularity] a trickle of aether, to make the men uncomfortable.

The Albanians looked at one another for a moment before the machete-wielding man spoke up. "Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. There is no reason that the Evans and Petrela families could not work together. You are clearly a man with power, but you are just one man. Let us farm this rift and we can help you in turn."

"Help me how?"

"Guns, hired muscle, resources. The family has a lot of influence still."

Luke hesitated; he had no desire to associate himself with such people, but at the same time, he hadn't yet seen the British army or police force stepping in to take control. 

Regardless of their methodology, the criminal family appeared to be thriving, and were the closest thing to an armed resistance. With the second wave imminent, he wasn't about to put on a cape and go out crime fighting.

"See how much influence you have in a few days. There are alien armies fighting in the middle of London, and those are just the vanguard. If this postcode is under your protection, let's see how long that lasts when the main armies get here," Luke said.

The Albanians might be powerful when it came to shaking down local businesses and fighting other gangs, but Luke doubted they would stand up or even stick around for the main event. Luke hoped that the armed forces had survived the decimation of humanity. Perhaps they even had a few forerunners amongst their ranks wherever they were. 

He was confident in his own abilities, but couldn’t win any wars by himself.

Yet.

After a little more conversation, Luke agreed to let the Albanians farm the rift at the next low tide, in about 8 hours, but demanded that as a show of trust, they left for now. They weren't very happy about it, but they did eventually agree, ultimately recognizing that Luke was the one in the power armour and that they had little choice but to accept if they wanted to avoid being thrown off the cliff.

No sooner had the Albanians retreated to the other end of the tide pool than Nate and Surya came out of hiding and approached. 

They looked into the murky waters of the rock pool. 

Things are going to get a lot more messy before everything is said and done.