RP:Small Business Owners

At the Xalious Chemist's Shop

Summary: Hudson is shopping at the chemist's for the ingredients to create a powerful narcotic when he bumps into Emelyan, who gets into an altercation with the shop's owner. The one-and-a-half men find themselves inadvertent conspirators, and with a new respect for one another, agree to go into business under the code names "Firefly" and "Steve."

Scene: the Xalious chemist's shop, Hudson stands before a shelf of arcane chemical reagents, arrayed in rubber-stoppered vials and glass bottles. He takes his hands from his pockets, drawing with them a quasi-folded, mostly crumpled piece of paper. Presses it flat on a column. He still struggles to read it, even though the handwriting is his. There are liquid (beer) stains, grease from an order of chicken wings that he had illegally snuck into the library. Rough approximation of what he needs for a first go, he thinks, with a small alteration that's all his own, because a man's got to sign his work. Lowering his head, Huds scans the middle row of jars, looking for item one on his list.

Emelyan was well familiar with the chemist's shop by now. Being a teacher of alchemy, and an entrepeneur of sorts did have that effect. Mostly, he made confections, fireworks, small, non lethal self defense items. But he was finding old habits resurfacing. Whenever he came upon a new world, he generally made sure to amass wealth, for a number of reasons... the foremost of which was that wealth was power, and he was obsessed with power. Spending your childhood powerless in a post apocalyptic wasteland struggling to survive tends to bring out lasting neuroticisms such as that. The seven year old boy, or so he seemed, wore a dark trenchcoat, concealing many things, and wore a scowl that seemed equally out of place on his young features. His clothing was of foreign, synthetic materials, and smelled of flame retardants, chemicals. He didn't seem to notice Hudson as he walked to the counter. Being too short to stand eye to eye with the man, he walked up while he did so... his feet apparently walking on flames that came from nowhere. The chemist seemed unsettled, but not surprised... he knew Emelyan. He was watching the flames, however. "Professor Emelyan, there are flammables around." Emelyan stopped when he was eye to eye with the man, flames licking inneffectually at his boots. "I'm well aware, simpleton. You should know by now that I've memorized all of your stock, its placement, and how poor you are at your job. You gave me Rubido. I asked for Quebirth. It was sent to my office by a bumbling incompetent of a deliveryboy, and he ended up with it all over him before he ever reached me. I do hope you realize that if I'd ordered Alchemists fire, you'd be out of business, and explaining to that boy's parents why there aren't even ashes left for them to grieve with." Before the man could stutter out a response, he waved him off. "I'll pick up my items in person now. Do you have my orders?" He looked in the back, then back to Emelyan. "I... couldn't get my hands on it. You'll have to get it somewhere else." Emelyan's scowl seemed to deepen, 'twere it possible. "You have it. What are you... ah. Elisilith. Did she actually threaten you, or did she bend over while picking up that bottle of Vermillion, and send all the blood to your second brain? Don't answer that. I already know, and I wish I didn't know what happened next. It still smells back there." The man seemed appalled, and wide eyed. "I'm not going to tell your wife. So long as you get me what I want." "You couldn't prove nuffin' anyway!" Emelyan stared at him, long and hard. "What exactly are you willing to bet on that?" He never blinked, not until the man, cowering, disappeared into the back, and Emelyan turned, and leaned backwards on the counter,with his elbows, hands clasped over his tummy. He seemed to be gazing at the ceiling after an instant. That's all it took for him to memorize everything in the room, including the man's shopping list. "Three down, one left. That's what you're looking for, sir." He didn't look at Hudson as he spoke, but seeing as there were no other customers at the moment, he might assume.

Hudson, a natural procrastinator, is attracted by the conversation that develops, fills in much like a Polaroid between this... kid...? and the chemist. He directs his gaze at the shelf, pretending to stare at the labels while he blatantly eavesdrops. The kid has sweet shoes, what with the flames, he thinks, can't believe he's a professor? At that age? Dude is balling. Hudson scrubs the amusement from his features as the kid schools the chemist. A few ad hominem remarks there, yikes, things getting a bit mature for a lad of 7 or however old this little guy is. Things clearly aren't what they seem. Huds wants to know who this Elisilith is - she doesn't sound hot but he'll be the judge of that - when Emelyan's voice, ostensibly directed at him, cuts through the fantasy of beautiful Elisilith he had been sculpting in his mind's eye. He looks briefly at the little bugger before his gaze swivels back to the shelf, as directed. "Right on, mate," says Hudson agreeably, picking up the stuff and dropping it into his hand basket, which is clue enough as to what he's about and has a few other reagents in it... As well as a bottle of the green caffeinated soda known as Cliff Condensation (ahem Mountain Dew). Hudson turns again to nod at the kid. "You sure know your stuff, mate," he comments, moving to the next item on his list. It's closer to Emelyan, this one, and Huds appears to vacillate between name brand and generic. "Wish I were that good at your age."

Emelyan shrugs. "If you live long enough to see my age, I'm sure you'll understand plenty about dealing with imbeciles." He'd already peered over the basket's contents, same as the list, but didn't generally butt his nose into other people's business. It was bad for his own business. "And that harpy of a woman Elisilith has poked her nose into my business for the last time. As soon as I found chemical transmutation was far the more limited in this world than I'd have hoped, I knew just how temporary my place as a professor was going to be. They have me on at the Mages Tower because I know things they don't, but if the things they want are worthless... 'lead to gold', 'philosophers stone', 'immortality without undeath', they all clamber for these things, and It WILL take time to reproduce such results. A long time. Possibly decades." He was rambling. He put his head in his hands, and turned his head over his shoulder to yell, "Hurry the hell up! I have a schedule!" Turning his attention back upon Hudson with a dismal sigh, the orange eyed, dusky skinned 'boy' seemed so... weary. Bags under his eyes, that scowl. He didn't sleep much, not as much as he needed to. Again, his attention turned towards the basket. "Hurting for money?" Name brand or generic, indeed. Still, it was a question most wouldn't venture to ask a stranger outright. Then again, Emelyan wasn't really known for his people skills, aside from intimidation.

Hudson cocks an eyebrow at this guy. ....So. Maybe not 7 years old. "You surprise me, mate," says Huds, snorting in response to what Emelyan says next. This 'kid' vomits surprises. "Yeah, that stuff..." he shakes his head, "I dunno. I don't see myself ever getting there. More of a namer myself. But I'll be lucky if I get the name of the wind down enough to do more than summon a breeze to dry my girlfriend's laundry. You seem to have it all figured out." He nods at the other guy's shoes. No small feat, that, the name of fire was temperamental, at least insofar as he'd come up against it. He could light cigarettes. Great party trick when he was in the business of picking up girls. Now he's got one girl and she knows his schtick too well to be impressed for long. Emelyan's question about needing money causes Hudson to opt for name-brand and move down an aisle, away from the line of sight of the chemist who owns the place. "Just... trying my hand at some chemical alchemy, speaking of the stuff," he says cryptically. They don't really know each other, after all. He keeps the subject matter tame, vague. "See what I can make, you know. Branch out. See what happens. Been using alchemy to make alcohol up until the present, it's not really lucrative. You got a girlfriend, mate, how old are you really?"

Emelyan noticed him looking at the fire, knew the conclusion he jumped to. "The fire isn't alchemy. That's pyrokineticism. Psychic manifestion of my will, in the form of excitable ectoplasms, raw heat, and flames of widely varying caliber, depending on my wishes." His other psychic ability had failed him when he came to this world. It would just take some time to adjust, was all. He hoped. Gods, never liked them and their ilk. He'd have moved on, if he hadn't found what he'd been searching for all his life. Saving worlds was so tedious after a few decades. He know's he's touched on a subject Hudson was reluctant to talk about when the man started avoiding straight answering. "I would have made a distillery long ago, if it weren't for the fact that I'm living next to Hobbits. Alchemy can do much, but they have a magic touch unmatched for wine, and I wouldn't find a receptive audience locally. Usually that wouldn't be an issue..." He seemed to list off there, for a moment. Damn this world, it really was a backwater place. "I'm not seven." As much as an answer as he seemed ready to provide. "But I wouldn't say I have a 'girlfriend'. More of a... soulmate. I've tracked her soul since her last incarnation, and that is why I am here. Need to make some real gold, too. Lot of old adversaries, and new ones now, I think. If they get to me while I'm this abyssmally weak, I won't see her left without a happier, more comfortable life." Ever the practical one. In truth, she probably had no care for money, but his ego demanded he take steps for every possibility. His beyond supergenius mind whirled and whirled, and past traumas made that mind paranoid and geared towards mistrust, survival, and the expectations of violence... and the readiness to respond in kind. So, it was good that he always observed his surroundings when the chemist stepped out from the room behind them,and aimed a crossbow. He was breathing heavily, aim shaky. Emelyan simply reached a hand into a coat pocket while talking and pulled out a small linen bag, then tossed it over his shoulder. The man looked confused, but decided to fire, only... there were now thick tendrils of something growing rapidly all over the floor. He tripped,as the strong tendrils of the tangle foot bag pushed him off his footing, tripping him, and Emelyan turned and stood, walking over the counter with his little firewalk. "I'll bet she left more than her stink on you. I loathe enchantresses, especially that one." The man aimed his crossbow again, panic on his features, but the bowstring snapped from a slight burn, and whipped him across the face instead, leaving a bloody but superficial wound. "That woman thinks she can toy with anything, and anyone. I'm going to have to bring her down a peg." He all but growled it, in his most intimidating pre pubescent voice. The man was begging for his life, and Emelyan swatted at nothing in particular in the air. "Kind sir." He called back towards Hudson. "Do you think you could make a dispellation potion out of what's there?" The tendrils had stopped growing, but the man didn't dare try to free his legs, with Emelyan looming over him. He was holding his bloodied cheek with a look that suggested Emelyan had been the one trying to kill HIM.

Hudson cocks an eyebrow as Emelyan explains the mechanism behind his shoes. He thinks it'd look pretty sweet on a pair of sneakers. He finds himself nodding along to what Emelyan says next, though. "Yeah, the wine I make isn't much compared to the real stuff," he says, picking up another one of his ingredients and dropping it into his basket. The non-kid's got a soulmate. That sounds a bit more serious than Huds' situation but he can still sympathize. Go figure. At this point Huds' consciousness has adjusted to the fact that this guy is full of surprises, so Huds isn't even registering this one. Besides, Emelyan is speaking his language. "Yeah, mate, I hear that. Got to provide for one's woman," exhales Huds companionably, head in the clouds as he's scanning more labels, looking for the next big thing. Except around them the room changes tenor completely. Hudson's attention is redirected when Emelyan speaks again, and his tone's so different, taken a turn. Oh, what, even. One chemist brandishing a crossbow amid some sort of tentacle menagerie sprouting out of the floor. He curses, looks to push the kid out of the way, but he seems to be master of ceremony here. Things got real, didn't they? And now they're basically in cahoots. A potion would work better than Huds taking a short cut trying to figure out the alchemical name for whatever it is Emelyan's made. The last time he tried THAT he made a talking, depressed ficus tree, currently residing somewhere on the Xalious hillside. Probs taking the piss out of someone right now. K, so: better not make some talking tentacles, that... No. "Yeah, probably," Huds agrees, with a glance at the chemist writhing about. Better to be on the kid's side, for sure. Presumably while Emelyan and the guy settle their score, Huds moves about the shop. He locks the door - critical - and 'borrows' a number of reagents, as well as the use of a heat source behind the counter. Man, the chemist kept some weird personal photos back there. His training in chemical alchemy isn't quite what it could be. Huds makes something, all right, and he hands it to Emelyan with a bit of a disclaimer: "Kind of rushed it, mate, but if it makes his toenails grow a bit who really cares."

Emelyan waves off the possible side effects. "Not a damn soul. It's his own fault for falling prey to her charms. He's acting on orders, doesn't even know what he's doing probably. Half baked spell, at that." He'd take the potion, when Hudson readied it, and grab the mans face, roughly, with his little seven year old hand, forcing him to drink the potion. The man would slowly stop shaking, looking around, blinking, as terrified as he'd been a moment ago, but obviously more cognisant. "Take a few deep breaths, bud. You're not in danger, anymore. And I'm still not telling your wife, but the price just went up a little." Emelyan knelt beside him, eyes locking. "Y-yeah, yeah, whatever it takes. Please don't hurt me!" Emelyan shook his head. "See a healer about that scratch. All the loose reagents in here will give you blood poisoning. You should ventilate this place better." He'd turn his attention to Hudson, then. "You're pretty handy with alchemy. You've got a lot to learn, but you also have potential." He'd roll his neck, and it'd crack audibly. Such a kid. "Might be that I have a proposition for you. I've made a humble living off of confections, fireworks, and little self defense items like that tanglefoot bag you just saw in action. I'm rather sick of living humbly. It prohibits me from getting my hands on the things I need to advance my craft. I have a product, and I have a consumer base, in mind. The only problem is, there are already providers of this product, and they rather enjoy their current lack of competition. I need help producing, and distributing... while I do a lot of very, very bad things to very, very bad people, and try to stay alive while I do it. Ever been to Cenril?"

Hudson watches the proceedings with interest, wondering how it came to be that he and a 7 year old(ish) are now colluding to menace the chemist. Better him and the kid than the other way around, though. He waves off some people who are looking in the window, trying the door and finding it locked. "Temporary closure, back in maybe half an hour," he shouts through the glass at them. Hudson's hardly got the look of a mugger. He looks like a dude who lives next door, whom you can trust to mow your lawn and help you carry furniture. The people disperse, leaving Huds to check up on Emelyan and his quasi-hostage. His eyebrows come up at the word proposition. As if releasing the proverbial kraken in the chemist's didn't already put them in cahoots. Hudson makes a low sound of understanding in the base of his throat - he likes what Emelyan's selling. His gaze goes to his basket. Yep, the other guy had put 2 and 2 together. And maybe it's not the worst idea to have a partner, somebody who isn't like to make things go boom, or have unintended side effects. His eyes go to the chemist's feet, not that he can see them. "I see where you're heading, and I'm down, mate," says Huds, keeping his voice low. Nothing like a little dust up to bond two men together, commit them to a path of crime. "Lived in the area for my whole life, mate. I also happen to know somebody who knows somebody who knows about distribution. So." He holds out a hand. "I'm in. Hudson Landon."

Emelyan couldn't help the faint grin that came to his face. "Emelyan." No surname, for him. He hadn't contrived to make one up, either. He took Hudson's hand, glad to have met him. He had everything Emelyan lacked... local knowledge, contacts. He knew the craft, he knew the recipe... although Emelyan would be making some possibly startling improvements to it. He'd had a century to toil with that supergenius mind of his on the secrets of alchemy... though the supernatural science differed from world to world, he'd discovered things that would boggle the minds of most mortals and immortals alike. Still, this was a place that challenged him greatly... usually, he had a philosophers stone within weeks of arriving to a world, along with the guarantee of nigh invincibility. Here? No, the divine controlled the ebb and flow of all things with iron fists. His favorite pistol had disintegrated when he'd arrived here. "As for my dealings with this chemist, it looks like we have a steady start up supplier, don't we old boy?" He gave the man a playful pat on the cheek, who just cursed, and lay there, waiting for it to be over with. He was caught up in way too much for his taste, and Emelyan had more than just dirt on his affairs. "We'll probably want to go by aliases, when we work, or send messages. I go by firefly. Ah, here. It's a pass to the Mages Tower. I have a laboratory to myself, there. A good place to start cooking, and moving. We can teleport the goods to Cenril. Hell, they use teleportation to avoid taxes on luxury goods, there. Although, I may need your help in a personal matter, afirst. Dealing with the enchantress, Elisilith. As potent as an adversary her pretty face and alluring figure are, she's susceptible to the same charms. I think you may be able to crack that nick in her armor I can't seem to find, and help me... remove her as an obstacle. I can't promise it won't be dangerous, but I can promise it'll be fun."

Hudson returns the grin, self-importantly concluding that he's contributing the charisma to this operation. This kid/non-kid may be a genius, but man he wasn't a people person. If the mute chemist wrapped up in tentacles was any indication. Huds reaches into his basket and breaks open the Cliff Condensation, drinking some of it. It's neon green. He offers some to Emelyan. "Teleport," Huds manages to repeat, exhaling, mildly overwhelmed by the information. And here Huds relied on riding around on his horse. And thought that rigging his horse to fly was a Big Deal. But, this guy..... "Firefly, right," he agrees, wondering what he's signed up for, since it now involves sexy enchantresses, that probably wasn't something he should disclose to his girlfriend, not that any of this was. Huds rubs his stubbled cheek. "I'll go by.... Steve?" he says, meeting the other guy's eye as he tucks the pass away. "And sure, Elisilith." What did this kid mean by 'dealing with.' Not exactly a violent guy by nature, Huds. Definitely the kind of guy who goes with the flow, though. He reaches into his pocket and after a search produces an ancient receipt from a strip club in Cenril known as THE OFFICE, on which he writes Alvina's address. "This probably shouldn't be in my pocket anyway, but now it's yours," he remarks, handing it to Emelyan. "That's how you reach me. Was doing work in the Eyrie, but things are... well you know, in Frostmaw. You're a beast if you've got a lab in Xalious, mate." He nurses his bright green soda, looking at the chemist, who is doing a good job at remaining quite still. "Right, so, mate, when do we start?"

Emelyan takes the receipt, and nods agreement at his words. "Yes, firefly..." He mumbles, while reading the address. Then, his face went blank, and he deadpanned to Hudson. "It seems we have a mutual acquaintance. I tracked down Alvina for her reknown abilities in applied prosthetic biomechanical engineering. She had knowledge of ancient Avian technology, of which she was kind enough to share with me, since I couldn't recreate a pneumatic actuator in this world. He pulled up a pants leg, his right side one, revealing the metallic appendage. "Wait, The Office? Gods, you're perfect for that oversexed harpy Elisilith. With your looks she'll probably give you a free show without you even asking." This kid was cold as ice, regardless of how much he played with fire. "Alright then, Steve." He only then seemed to notice the offer of a drink. "Ah, I don't drink much that I don't oversee the creation of. Same with eating. Or smoking. I grow a very nice cherry tobacco, if you ever wish to try it." He was too paranoid to ingest anything he wasn't completely sure of. Such paranoia came from a youth spent in a post apocalyptic zombie wasteland, and it served to keep him alive. Well, there were those two times he died... but one didn't fight the aether shade general of Pestilence without taking on every disease known to mammals. If only he'd had a panacea on hand. Instead, a god had saved him... mortifying.

Hudson's face likewise deadpans in response, and his gaze follows Emelyan's gesture to look at the metal leg. Looks familiar. Oh man. His jaw hangs unhinged. The secret life of Alvina indeed. And just before Huds can finish processing this, Emelyan signs him up for hanging out with Elisilith, who... sounds like is a stripper at The Office? Oh gods. He's probably already acquainted with her. She probably doesn't go by Elisilith either. Probably Brandi or Crystal or Lola. "Suit yourself," says Huds, as he drinks from his Cliff Condensation, pondering these strange coincidences. "Our mutual acquaintance is my girlfriend," he says eventually. "Let's..." He makes a stirring motion with his hand. "...keep this one under wraps, mate. I'm telling her that I'm getting into making medical supplies and reagents. I mean, it's all for her, but she's kind of sensitive, mate, I'm sure you know the type."

Emelyan nods. "Just to be fair, and so that we're on even terms, I'll say the same of Yukiko. Our dealings will stay between us, and whosoever must be involved in our profession. My brain and my balls are for business, my heart is for my family." Ruthless, focused. This kid was prepared to lead a criminal empire, should he make the rise. "Besides, you won't technically be lying. You'll even have medical supplies and the like to bring to her. Half of keeping addicts coming back for more is keeping them in cycle. Too much, and they'll kill themselves. They always come back, but you have to wean them off before they get to the overdose. We're going to give the people what they want, then slap their wrists and put them in help groups... from which they'll inevitably find their way back. Most of them, anyhow. Truth be told, creating the cycle saves more lives than it takes. Those that seek these kinds of thrills usually go until they're lost, and only fools and assassins provide death for a profit. Playing every angle means you control the entire field. It's the difference between winning and losing fortunes, wars, worlds, and creation its self." Emelyan was going to be sitting in a chair, counseling withdrawing addicts from the very product that he himself made. The ethical quanderies of such a thing were... well.

Hudson holds a hand to his chest, resisting a burp. Such things were known to happen, sometimes, when one drank Cliff Condensation. The feeling passes. Emelyan is saying some intense stuff. Huds just doesn't want to get in trouble for making drugs or going to the strip (he's unclear which one is the greater crime). Anyway, while the proverbial cogs in Emelyan's criminal mind are turning, Huds is just Pinkying to the other guy's Brain. Sure, drugs sound kind of bad... scourge on society, even. Except he'd really like to be rich, and anyway, as Emelyan says, they're not killing anyone. The drugs are already out there. He feels a little better about it all knowing that they're making sure what's being marketed isn't laced or deadly. He'd also just like to buy Alvina something nice, she was so depressed lately. That thought keeps him relatively insulated from the havoc he and Emelyan are prepared to unleash. "We're just providing recreation," says Huds with a shrug. "And making some money in the process. Anyway, let me know when you're ready to start. I should get back. I'll keep all this," he pats the basket, "in ye olde mancave until then." He digs some coins out of his pocket and, stepping over the chemist, leaves a pile on the counter, along with the now-empty Cliff Condensation bottle.

Emelyan gives a nod of his head. "Providing recreation, indeed." Best not to get Hudson too caught up in the details and goings ons behind the scenes. There would be more expendable employees for such tasks, once they had their toe in the waters, so to speak. "Be at the Tower tomorrow at dawn. Steve, we have to cook."

Part of the The Dust Up In Cenril Arc