Chapter 10: THE PAYMENT
Chen examined the photographs with the detachment of a man reviewing paperwork.
He held each one up to the light, studying the details—the angle of the bodies, the entry wounds, the pooling blood. His expression never changed. Not disgust. Not satisfaction. Just professional assessment.
"Clean work." He set the photos down. "Efficient. You didn't hesitate."
"They didn't give me time to hesitate."
"No. They wouldn't have." Chen reached under the counter and produced a small wooden box. Inside, nestled in red velvet, sat two gold coins. "These men—Dai and Feng—they betrayed their brothers. Sold information to a competing organization. The Tong has been looking for an opportunity to remove them without starting a war."
I stared at the coins. At Chen. At the casual way he'd just admitted to using me as a deniable asset.
"You could have told me."
"Would you have done it differently?"
The honest answer was no. I'd walked into that alley expecting violence. I'd gotten violence. The fact that the targets weren't who I expected didn't change the outcome.
"Probably not."
Chen's lips twitched. That same almost-smile from earlier.
"Then why does it matter?" He slid the wooden box across the counter. "Your payment. Two gold coins, as agreed. Plus the gratitude of people you don't want as enemies."
I picked up the coins. They were heavier than I expected—solid metal, not plated. The design was unfamiliar: a stylized table on one side, crossed swords on the other. Old symbols. Ancient currency for an ancient profession.
[SIDE CONTRACT COMPLETE. REWARD: 50 BLOOD COINS CONFIRMED.]
The System's voice cut through my examination. Cold. Transactional. Updating its ledger.
[CURRENT BLOOD COINS: 125.]
[TIER 1 THRESHOLD ACHIEVED: 100 BLOOD COINS.]
[SUB-FUNCTION UNLOCKED: GHOST MODE.]
Something shifted inside me. Not pain—more like a door opening in a room I hadn't known existed. A new capability settling into my consciousness, dormant but present. Waiting to be used.
[GHOST MODE: ELECTRONIC INVISIBILITY. DURATION: 240 SECONDS. COOLDOWN: 600 SECONDS. ACTIVATION: MENTAL COMMAND.]
Four minutes of invisibility to cameras and sensors. Ten-minute cooldown between uses. The tactical applications flooded through my mind faster than I could process them.
Chen was watching me. His eyes had narrowed slightly, calculating.
"Something wrong?"
"No." I pocketed the coins. "Just thinking about next steps."
"A wise habit." He reached for the ceramic teapot. "Another cup? We should discuss future arrangements."
I should have left. Should have taken my payment and disappeared before I owed this man anything else. But the tea was good, and information was worth more than gold in a world I didn't understand.
"Sure."
Chen poured with practiced grace. The liquid was darker this time—a different blend, richer and more complex.
"You're new to this life." Not a question. "The brand on your arm marks you as... affiliated. But you move like someone still learning the rules."
"Everyone starts somewhere."
"True." He sipped his tea. "But not everyone survives the starting. You have skills. Military, I think. The way you cleared that alley—trained reflexes. Professional spacing. You've killed before."
The observation sat between us like a loaded weapon.
"Does that matter?"
"It matters because it means you can be useful. The Tong has occasional need for outside contractors. People who aren't connected to our organization. People who can't be traced back to us."
"Like tonight."
"Like tonight." Chen nodded. "If you're interested, I can provide regular work. Good pay. Minimal questions."
"He's offering me a job. A steady income in the murder industry."
The rational part of my brain screamed warnings. Getting deeper into organized crime. Building connections that could become chains. Becoming indebted to people who solved problems with bullets.
But I needed money. I needed connections. I needed to survive long enough to understand what the System wanted from me.
"I'm interested. But I have other obligations. Contracts I can't refuse."
Chen's eyes flicked to my forearm. The brand hidden beneath my sleeve.
"The Marker system." His voice was careful. Measured. "I've heard of it. Old magic. Very old. Very binding."
"He knows. Or at least, he knows something."
"What have you heard?"
"Rumors. Stories." Chen set down his cup. "That certain individuals carry obligations they cannot escape. That they must hunt, or be hunted. That the brand marks them as both predator and prey."
Close enough to the truth to be uncomfortable.
"And if those rumors were accurate?"
"Then I would say—" Chen leaned forward slightly. "—that such a person would need allies. Resources. A network they could rely on when the hunting grew difficult. The Tong has existed for centuries. We understand old obligations. Old debts. Old power."
He was offering more than work. He was offering protection. Or at least the appearance of it.
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Please do." Chen rose, signaling the end of our conversation. "My door is always open to useful friends, Mr. Radcliff. Try not to die before you can be useful again."
I finished my tea and stood. The coins clinked in my pocket. Heavy. Meaningful. The first real currency I'd earned in this world.
"Thank you for the opportunity."
"Thank yourself. You survived. That's the only qualification that matters."
The door stuck again on my way out. I shoved it harder than necessary, stepping into the night air of Chinatown.
Two gold coins. One hundred twenty-five Blood Coins. A new ability I hadn't tested yet. And a connection to an organization that had been killing people since before America existed.
"Two weeks ago you were dead in another world. Now you're negotiating with gangsters and unlocking supernatural powers."
The absurdity hit me all at once. Standing in a Chinatown alley at midnight, pockets full of blood money, a voice in my head tracking my murders like a video game score.
I laughed. The sound came out strange—too sharp, too hollow. But it felt good anyway. The first genuine expression of anything besides fear or rage since I'd woken up in this body.
"Welcome to the new normal. Try not to choke on it."
The walk back to Queens took longer than usual. I wasn't in a hurry. The night was cool, the streets were quiet, and I had thinking to do.
Ghost Mode. Four minutes of camera invisibility. In a city with surveillance on every corner, in a profession where evidence meant death, that ability was worth more than gold.
But I needed to test it first. Understand its limits. Make sure it worked the way the System claimed.
Tomorrow. After some sleep. After my brain stopped spinning from the night's violence.
The brand on my arm pulsed once—warm, satisfied.
I ignored it and kept walking.
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