"So, please sit. What's the problem? I'm pretty sure we didn't make too much noise last night."
"No, you've been great tenants. Have you seen the city? There's a lot that's been going on in this great city and I must say that there's a bad man doing bad things."
The two of them knew where this was going, violence. Sears had a big reputation at this time and Scott ended up on the news every other month for somehow escaping UN kill raids. Neither of them certainly didn't have anything to prove but alas, money is money.
"Who do we have to do this to? It's best if we speed this along."
"A man in town, he's absolutely insane and he keeps on killing homeless people and children when he isn't recruiting them to kill for him. Horrible stuff."
"Just tell us the price. We don't need any of this guilt trip crap."
"Shh, we need all the info we can get, Scott. The least we could get is free rooms for the next few months."
Scott had thirteen accounts in at least thirty different countries each. He wasn't planning on telling anyone because he needed some routine violence to help him get along in life.
"Okay, well, he works out of a small Italian restaurant on the Chip Strip of Buffalo. Take down everything he has."
"Which restaurant?"
"The small one."
With a sigh, Sears stood and they moved forward. He wanted this to just be him and Scott. But he would have Alexandria spy on them soon after they were done scouting. This one would require a party animal like Scott plus they needed some time alone with one another.
"One more thing."
"And that is?"
"A photo."
They were given a photo and Sears remembered that yes, he was a prodigy of his time, but he was well past his prime. How stupid of me to ever think that there was just going to be a guy with a sign saying he's my target!
"He looks funny. Kinda like this one rockstar I hung out with in the eighties."
When Sears looked closer at the picture, he understood which rockstar Scott was talking about.
"Oh yeah, the one with those circular glasses? I can't remember his name. I don't listen to music that often."
Scott was a strange person as they walked through the town of Buffalo and saw how big and beautiful the place was. The architecture and the people were nice. When they finally got there, the view was of the place that had so many restaurants and other such luxury businesses.
"You know, out of all the things in the world that I could've missed, I think I missed buffalo wings the most. Want some?"
Before Sears could even register the world around him, Scott was able to go and grab two sets of wings. Though, the soldier had learned long ago that he should never take food from people he didn't trust, and Scott was the least trustworthy person alive.
"No thanks."
They walked to the most ignored place yet, a small Italian restaurant that had something off with it. The place was small enough to be mistaken for an extremely large stack of bricks. But when Sears had opened the steel door to the building, he saw that there was a set of wooden stairs dimly lit by the likes of a single light bulb. An underground mafia base? Now I've seen it all. Little did Sears know, he hadn't seen nothing yet.
"Hello gentlemen, is there anything that we could do for the two of you? Just know, our crowd is a little large tonight so expect service to be slow."
When they looked across the room, they found it to be barren besides a single man in a purple shirt with circular glasses and long black hair in the back. His eyes had black bags under them and he had a tint of red in his eyes behind the glasses that were stained purple to match his shirt.
"Are you... Maxwell Harley?"
Scott thought of how ridiculous of a name it was and then he realized that he brought two trays of wings into a restaurant.
"Do I owe you money?"
"No?"
"Then I have time to talk."
He was calm in his composure and had a small smirk on his face that let out a smooth voice with a hint of an Italian accent with a possible blend of an English accent. Sears silently wondered if it was a Yorkshire accent. He always wanted to go to Yorkshire. He never knew why but he wanted to.
"Sir, we're looking for some children who've sold us, under the amount we paid."
"Their names are?"
He seemed slightly angered by the matter. Though, he was so mellowed out that it would be easy to think he didn't have any emotion to it.
"We didn't catch that?"
"Ah, well, Bodie!"
The waiter that had placed the duo at a table shortly before they had come to place themselves in the company of Mr. Harley came forward. He was what could best be described as suffering from extreme burnout.
"Yes, sir?"
"Can we just get all the boys lined up here? We need all of them here, understand?"
"Yes sir."
The zombielike waiter limped back to his post in the kitchen before he returned to the trio with his small army of kids. They ranged in age from nine to sixteen.
"Which one of you was it?"
"What's going on"
Mr. Harley was fidgeting during the interaction as the boys stood. He was fuming at the sight of the boys. A loyal businessman to the end.
"Who undersold these two? Come on, I'm not mad."
One boy stepped forward. He was the oldest. Something clicked inside Scott's head, and it made him mad. Mr. Harley cocked his arm back and thrust it forward into his chest. The boy let out a wheeze before his boss's other hand grabbed onto his hair and he lifted his knee into his nose. Keep cool. Don't fight him. We need all the info we can get.
"It was me."
"Now, you're lying! Like how I'm lying about not being mad."
Mr. Harley took out some cash from his pocket and tossed it on the ground. That was before he began to beat onto the other boy that came forward.
"Thank you."
"Consider that a inconvenience fee."