Rue: Web of Deceit - Part 1

Life, Identity

Rue finds themself conscripted into The Spider's shady enterprise when they're caught stealing from one of his employees.

It has been over a year since the Railyard Raid  turned Rue's life upside down. For months, they’ve been surviving the only way they could: by pickpocketing and begging people for money and food.   There had been a level 2 cold weather alert throughout the UK for the past few days, and Rue effectively had nothing but the clothes on their back. Fearful that they would draw the wrong attention by using their powers, they’ve hidden away in an abandoned building, only using their pyrokinesis to stay warm whenever they were certain there was no one around to notice. Unfortunately, this meant that, when they were out and about in search of their next target, they were freezing.   As they’re walking through Bathala, their eyes warily scanning the crowds, they notice a young woman who, aside from a thick, bright pink fur coat, was wearing what Rue could only describe as ‘weather-inappropriate’ clothing: a short skirt made out of some shiny silver material, and clear platform heels. The woman’s blonde wavy hair cascaded down her back, her lips the same shade as her coat.   What caught Rue’s eye, however, was the bracelet on the woman’s right wrist. It was a rose gold bracelet with an obscene amount of gems laid into it. Having seen the cheap knock offs that were usually sold around this area, they immediately realised that these were real. A quick x-ray vision of her purse confirmed the likeliness of this further, when they spotted the thick roll of money hidden deep within the bag.   It was easy for Rue to follow the woman’s alarmingly perfumed scent from a safe distance. As they’re tracking her, they very carefully use their telekinesis to move the wad of cash higher up into the bag to make it easier to snatch. However, much to their dismay, the woman suddenly turns and enters a club called The Six-Nines. Looking at the bouncer at the door, Rue decides to keep walking for now, waiting in a nearby alley for the woman to come out again.   After several hours, as the sun is slowly coming up again, the woman re-emerges from the club, saying goodbye to the bouncer and heading back in the direction she came from. Rue is exhausted at this point, their whole body shivering from both the cold and lack of sleep. Still, a catch like this will get them through weeks, if not months, so they’re determined to stay on target. Through their tiredness, Rue decides to be a bit bolder, following closer behind the woman.   They’ve been walking a few feet behind the woman for 2 blocks, again carefully pushing the cash to the top of the bag with their telekinesis. Rue counts their blessings when they realise that the woman has forgotten to zip the bag up, so when the cash is at the top, they swiftly move close enough to grab it without anyone spotting the floating money, then promptly walk past her once the loot is safely stashed in their pockets.   Rue is about to make their way back to the abandoned building they’ve been squatting in when they feel what they instinctively know to be a gun pressing against their lower back, a calloused hand tightly gripping their shoulder.   ‘’The boss would like a word with you.’’ A gruff voice says, and before Rue can do anything, another man reaches into the pocket of their hoodie and retrieves the money they just stole.   The two men guide Rue back to The Six-Nines, the large bouncer eyeing them briefly as they walk through the entrance. Inside, it is dark, and there is music blasting, though the customers have long since left. Though they could probably take the two men on with their powers, Rue doesn’t want to risk the exposure, so they decide to cooperate until there’s no other option.   They take them to the back of the club, where there is a large private booth. Sat at the table, there is a tall, lanky man in a green pinstripe suit. His hair is slicked back and there is a cigar lazily hanging between the man’s lips, and despite the dark interior, the man seems to be wearing sunglasses.   One of the henchmen places the roll of cash that Rue tried to take in front of the man at the table, whilst the other man pushes Rue to sit down opposite, the gun still aimed at them.   ‘’You know, it’s a shame,’’ The tall man begins, picking up the money and rolling the stack between his fingers. ‘’If Doug hadn’t spotted you lingering nearby, you would’ve hit the jackpot.’’   ‘’You have the money back,’’ Rue growls, their eyes briefly flicking over to the gun. ‘’Can I go now?’’   The boss chuckles, running his tongue slowly across his teeth as he leans forward, "Now, now, little creature," he says, his voice both raspy and inexplicably moist. He leers down at Rue, "By the looks of you, you've been down in the dumps long enough to know that there's more to these matters than a simple return of goods. I have a reputation to uphold."   He pauses for a moment before seemingly realising and holding out one bony hand, "But where are my manners. Aloysius Creel. Nice to... meet you." The name sends a shiver up Rue's spine. Everyone in The Railyard knows about The Spider.   Whether just a notorious gangster and information broker, or secretly a cannibalistic abomination, the rumours abound as to the Spider's true nature. One thing is always clear though, to enter the Spider's den is to dance with death.   Rue eyes the extended hand, weighing their options. No one has crossed The Spider and lived to tell the tale, and yet, their gut is telling them that shaking hands could be a grave mistake. Putting on a brave face, Rue glares at Aloysius, keeping their chin up as they reply.   “Forgive me if my manners are lacking,” Rue forces a small smile on their face, though it ends up looking more like a snarl. “Like you said, I’ve been down in the dumps for a long time. Which is also why I can’t offer any compensation for my actions. I have nothing to offer.”   The Spider sits back in his chair retracting his hand and gingerly placing it into a nearby black glove. His face shows not the irritation of a man rebuffed, but a subtle grin of approval. He speaks again, his tongue never seeming to sit still in his mouth, like some ravenous snake, searching for its next meal.   "If there's one thing I've learned in all my years running this respectable gentleman's club, it's that desperate young girls always have something to offer," his implication hangs heavy in the air, like a festering sore, the whole place suddenly stinks of it, "But, from what Doug tells me, you might be a little more than a pretty, if tomboyish, face. So why don't you tell me, little morsel, what makes you so special?"   Rue swallows past the lump in their throat, feeling revolted. They try hard to hide the slight tremor in their body at the thought of strange hands on their skin, the idea reminding them of the much more brightly lit room they spent most of their life in, the hands prodding and poking despite Rue’s objections, “I’m good at taking things. Small things, without people noticing.” Rue mumbles reluctantly, hoping desperately that Doug wasn’t close enough to see their 'technique'.   Creel notices their discomfort and grins wider, taking a drag of his cigar before continuing with the exhale, "And how exactly does someone like you become so good at, quote, 'taking small things', hmm?" It's clear he's fishing for something. Something in Rue had seemingly caught his eye, and whether that's a good thing or a bad thing remains to be seen. They just know they have to tread carefully.   Rue winces at the stench from the cigar, a scent overwhelming in the stuffy club air. ''You have to get good if the alternative is starving to death.'' Rue half-lies, omitting their 'advantage'. They feel like they're threading a thin line, and any wrong move will only tangle them up further in The Spider's web.   "Smart, cautious, and motivated. I can respect that," he growls, taking another pull and releasing further noxious odours into the air, "But, what if you had another alternative?" He raises an inquisitive brow in their direction, "Ever considered making a little more of yourself than gutter trash, Morsel?"   At this, The Spider seems to properly catch Rue's attention. They eye him quizzically, as if trying to determine if the offer he's about to make will be worth their time. ''What are you suggesting?''   He puts out his cigar on a nearby ashtray and sits forward. Aloysius has always known that look. The one a person gives when they know they shouldn't be talking to him, but they also know he has what they need. He feels like the devil. And it's exhilarating.   "All I'm suggesting is perhaps, if you make yourself useful around here. Maybe do a few... odd jobs. Not only might I be inclined to forgive your little indiscretion, but who knows... I might have a place for you in our little organisation. Beats languishing in the gutters I think."   Rue purses their lips in thought. They hadn’t been doing well for the past few weeks, their hauls from pickpocketing minimal. Truth was, Rue was tired, and they couldn’t see a better way out. Still, to make a pact with The Spider, Rue might as well sell their soul, “What sort of odd jobs?” Rue asks dejectedly, aware that with this question, they’re well and truly ensnared in Creel’s web.   "Like I said... Smart girl." He says, chuckling to himself as he picks out one of the files on his desk, "No, not that one," he keeps searching. They are surprised that anything ever gets found among all the clutter, but eventually he does pull out a filled envelope with an eight-legged insignia on it and pushes it over to them.    "That peroxide princess you managed to boost this tasty little sum from," he begins, holding up the roll of notes, "is Tara Willard. Likes to call herself 'Angel.' She works here. Or she did. She just left having handed in her notice. Apparently she's found herself some nice rich boy from the university who's been looking after her and she just doesn't need my... generosity anymore.    "Unfortunately for her, a lot of our regulars around here at the Six-Nines quite... enjoy her. As you can see, this puts me in something of a tricky situation. But not to worry. I happen to have it on good authority that our dear Tara has been less than upfront with her new boo about the nature of her employ. Apparently she's been feeding him some sappy story about working in a clinic for sick animals."    He chuckles, but Rue can see the venom in his eyes, "I want you, Morsel, to take this envelope, find this new squeeze of hers, and make sure he sees the contents. The pictures in there are sure to give him something to talk to our dear Tara about, and who knows. Maybe she'll be... compelled, to come back to kindly uncle Aloysius... If you catch my drift."   He sees the look on Rue's face and allows the bundle of notes to roll haphazardly in their direction, "If this all goes to plan, you may just 'find' another bundle like that waiting for you when you get back."   Rue looks at the envelope in front of them, as well as the cash rolling lazily next to it. They're aware that The Spider will see this as nothing more than a first test, and depending on how Rue completes the task at hand might establish how much further testing will be required. 'Beats being taken apart time and again, or having to look for a new target themself.' Rue thinks, and before they know it, they've taken the envelope and tucked the cash deep into their pocket.   ''Shouldn't be a problem.'' Rue shrugs, still remembering the woman - Tara's - scent. They could track her, find the boyfriend, and deliver him the envelope. Rue stands up, eyeing the man who had, until just now, kept his weapon aimed at them.   ''Just one more thing.'' Rue begins, facing Creel once more. ''Your... Information, on me, is inaccurate. Not a girl."   "Interesting..." he says, raising a brow, pulling a file from amidst the clutter and making some sort of quick note. He closes the file again and tosses it haphazardly to one side, "Doug. The little morsel here is welcome around the Six-Nines... for now." The burly man now putting his weapon away in the back of his trousers gives Creel a curt nod and begins to lead Rue out. As they go, you hear over your shoulder, that same sickening growl, "I look forward to seeing you again, Rue."   They're not sure how Creel knows their name.   To be continued...