Monthly Story Prompts

What does your character think about this?

It’s an opportunity to take advantage of

Kivo was up early. He had things to do and a business to run. He wandered down the quiet streets of Faline; it was far too early for anyone to be stirring yet. It was a disappointment when he found out that he could not live at his establishment but, there was a house just down the street that made for the perfect abode. The previous tenant was, shall we say, easily persuaded into leaving and, what a score, they left all of their possessions behind including the furniture too! It was modesty decorated, a little disjointed with Kivo's own tastes, but it would do for somewhere to lay low, especially seeing as his name was nowhere on any sort of paperwork and he was careful to ensure he was never sighted by his neighbours. Besides, Kivo was rarely at home. He preferred the company of the higher class...the criminal class.

The key slipped into the hole, turning with a satisfying click as it unlocked. Kivo pushed the door open, entering his establishment. The place smelled strongly of bleach. The cleaner had come in after what had been a heavy night of fun. She'd done a good job of wiping away the sins of yesterday. She always did a good job, not that she would ever remember being here and doing the job. Kivo could not afford her seeing everything she saw and then running to the authorities and tattling on him so, every night, he'd erase her memory just enough so she remembered to come to work every day but wouldn't remember the ungodly sights she was subjected to. A necessary precaution.

He flicked on some lights and lit a candle that sat by the door. This candle was one of the best things he'd ever purchased. Its looks were nothing special and, with the eye, looked rather dull and boring. However, its creator had that magical touch and, when lit, it emitted a powerful scent of whatever a person wished to smell. If they liked the scent of a warm, homely pumpkin pie then that is what they would smell. Kivo's scent was always the same. It was heavy and musky, almost choking if one breathed in too deeply. It would soon mask the chemical scent from the air. He got on with some paperwork, counting the tills from the previous night as he'd slipped away early. He then moved onto the bottles, meticulously recording each liquor. He was here to scam people, not to be scammed. It was the upmost importance that the bartenders were shy with their measurements. Everything looked good and now it was time to play the waiting game with his delivery. Most of his stock came from Mead. His clientele didn't want seedy moonshine that they could purchase for pennies in any old pub. They wanted only the best so he shipped in only the best. Despite the prices he was paying, it didn't make the delivery any better. On the patrons above, the illegal distillery down the road could offer him more reliable service. But Kivo put up with it because spending the money ultimately made him even more.

Time ticked by slowly as he waited. Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes turned into hours. Where the bloody hell were they? They liked taking the biscuit but, today, they'd taken the whole goddamn pack! He lit a cigarette (his 8th one this morning) and puffed on it with anger. This was the final straw. Fuming, he stormed back in, dripping ash all over his clean floors. No matter, he would tidy it up later. There were more pressing matters at hand. Even though the windows were shielded, the window in the door showed that the streets had picked up outside. Bustling bodies fighting to get to work hurried through the streets. A small, lowly street-boy hovered close by to the entrance, hat on the floor, near his feet as he begged for change.

"You boy! Come here!"

The young lad looked dazed, pointing to himself as if shocked that he'd been acknowledged.

"Yes, you boy! Come here at once."

He scuttled over, hat in hand.

"Y...yes mister. What may I do for you?"

The boy was surprisingly polite for a street urchin.

"I need you to take a message to Mead for me to the factory."

"Mead, sir?"

"Yes. Are you hard of hearing, boy? Mead, I say."

"That would simply be impossible, mister. Mead ain't safe, especially not for me."

"What could you possibly mean, you good-for-nothing rapscallion?"

The boy looked hurt at the insult, ready to turn away from this conversation. However, he said one last thing before he scarpered.

"Mead's been captured."

With that, the young boy legged it down the street, slipping down a side alley in case of being followed. Kivo hadn't the want to follow him. Instead, he slammed his door shut and headed for the bar.

With a drink in hand, Kivo could now begin to think clearly. If what the boy said was true, then his delivery wasn't coming any time soon. It was crucial he had something in stock, though. He had several fights scheduled and they always drew a large crowd. Or, at least, they would if he had anything left to serve them. He sat for what felt like an eternity, thinking. What was he supposed to do? His mind kept drifting to the illegal brewery on his doorstep. If Mead had truly stopped production, their services were about to hit an all-time demand. An opportunity was arising and Kivo was damn sure he was going to take advantage of it.

He slipped out the back door, skirting round the back of the houses. With a hop over a fence and three meaningful raps on a wooden door, he was in. No words were exchanged between himself and the person who opened the door. It was so dark in the hallway, Kivo could barely make out the person's features. Nevertheless, he followed him down the narrow hallway to another door which the person knocked on. He waited a few moments for a 'come in' call from the leader inside. Kivo followed, entering the tiny room. He stood in front of a wide desk, barely able to fit inside the space. Kivo wondered for a moment how on earth they'd got it in. A parrot squawked, drawing his eyes to the beautiful exotic colours of its feathers as it sat perched on the shoulders of its owner. Its owner was a gruff woman, mid-to-late 40s. She had wispy brown hair, a chubby, round face with a chubby, round body to match. Her nose looked like it had been broken one too many times and part of her left ear was missing. Looks were not to be deceiving, however, as she must be a rather brainy character to run her operations.

"Hello. I am Kivo."

"Nice to meet ya. I'm Cluff." He voice was as rough as her looks.

"I'll get to the chase for a haven't the time for pleasantries, I'm afraid. I'm here to strike a deal with you."

"A deal, huh? What do you think you can offer me?" She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "I'm doing well enough without the likes of yous."

"Well, I've had a little tib-bit of information which made aid the both of us."

"And what's that then?"

"Mead has found itself in a little bit of a pickle and, unfortunately, this has hindered their productivity just a smidge."

She hummed, willing him to continue.

"I propose an agreement. You supply me with what I'm missing. In return, I ensure that all the businesses in Faline come to you."

"What's the catch? You can't just expect free booze." Her scowling eyes narrowed, glaring at him.

"Ah, you got me. Of course, I would expect a small commission fee for every referral. This doesn't mean it has to come out of your pocket, though."

"How so?" She sat forward now, elbows on the table. She was intrigued.

"Demand would go up. So would your prices. Where else would they get their wine and beer and liquor from? Their choices would be to pay or to close the doors. You add the charge to their bill unknowingly and we both pocket some profit. What do you say?"

"Sounds a little too good to be true, if you ask me. How can you be certain people will come to me, despite your recommendations? How do I know you're not lying?"

Kivo smiled and motioned for the fellow who had let him in. He grasped hold of their arms and pulled them into place so that they were stood directly in front of him. He stared into his eyes - red meeting green.

"Dance for me."

The reaction was immediate and the person began a jig, imaginary music sweeping him into a happy dance around the room.

"See?"

She watched as her worker skipped and jived about the place.

"Agreed. I will see you receive the best I have to offer. I'll be in touch."

Kivo bowed his head slightly in thanks before leaving with a smile on his face. What a win.