Morningstar - Mr. Jip
Nov. 18th, 2018 07:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_changeling posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsWarren's money brings him to an actual magical operator.
Now shit was starting to get real. Fooling around with the frauds and bottom feeders of NYC's magical underground was one thing. Dealing with people who actually had some power, that was another. The CIA had never admitted in any way that magic existed, but had agents and teams deeply buried under top secret clearances to keep an eye on things. Most of what they'd put together was a list of names that weren't just bullshit operators.
Mr. Jip was one of them. He was some kind of fixer; a parasite with the instincts of a dealer who had turned an ability to acquire what people wanted into a position of influence in the community. The files reminded Kevin of a Corporal he'd served with; Henson. You wanted a ball of hash, he'd find a way to make it work. A back-up piece not authorized by the brass? Sure. Once, a crate of Kansas City T-bones in a forward firebase that even the Colonel couldn't authorize.
The difference was Henson did it for money. Rumour was that with Jip, lives were involved.
"Here's the deal. I explain your problem and consider the options. If there's a safe one, I'll agree. If not, we walk and I'll put out feelers for someone else. Understood?"
Warren was jittery. This whole evening was weird, after crab lady took off and Kevin appeared out of nowhere.
To be honest, Warren still wasn't convince Kevin wasn't a figment of his imagination. It was pretty damn probable, really...
"Sure, whatever." The billionaire waved a hand dismissively. He'd agree to anything right now to meet Mr. Jip. He wasn't going to think farther than that.
"I swear to god, humanity would thank me if I killed you, assumed your identity and actually did something worthwhile with your life." Kevin muttered. It wasn't entirely an idle thought. They both went down the concrete steps in the front of the dilapidated kitchen supply shop, knocking on the delivery door.
The metal door rolled open with a high pitch whine, slowly revealing the strangely mottled hair and skin of the man standing just behind it. It was a medley of all known skin tones and hair colors. A sudden genial smile revealed blinking white teeth. "Welcome gentlemen. Come in, come in."
"Yeah, yeah. theatrics." Kevin muttered as he followed Warren it. It was his show, after all.
Warren ignored Kevin and followed the creepy guy inside. "You know who I am, right?" He naturally assumed everyone knew who he was, but it was his standard question with these assumed beings of magic. If they couldn't figure out who he was and why he was there, they were useless to him. "And why I'm here?"
"You'd only be here because you want or need something." Jip guided them to a room that didn't fit the store it was in, with everything draped with deep purple and grey velours and a soft light coming from hidden corners. "I can get you what you need." He added after he had gestured for them to take a seat on the couch. "But be warned, there is a price."
"Money is no object. Name it and it's yours." Warren took out his cell phone and started pushing a few buttons. "How many millions are we talking here?"
"Such an innocent boy. We don't trade her for such fleeting things." Jip shook his head. "No... no... here we trade for something far more precious. A few grains of sand from the hourglass that is your life."
Warren looked at Jip blankly. "Wait -- what? I don't think I understand what you're saying."
"I think I do. Let me guess, he gives you some of his life. Magically, or something. And when you're supposed to die, you get to use it to extend your own?" Kevin said. "Which is how you've been supposed operating since the late 1800s, right?"
Jip studied the other man with interest. "So do we have an initiate here? Or one who has simply learned to listen? Ah, it does not matter." Turning back to Warren, Jip continued: "Your companion here is right. I give you what you need. You give me a few grains of sand from the hourglass that is your life to add to my own. Quite simple actually."
"A few grains? What is that in American conversion? Like ...10 minutes? An hour? A day?" He gave a short laugh. "I don't think it fucking matters, but I bet my companion here will bitch no matter what I do."
"Perhaps you should first share what it is that you seek." Jip leaned forward,, catching his customer with his disconcerting eyes. "I cannot name a price if I don't know what it's for."
"I know you're not the one I want to see," Warren said bluntly. "Kevin over here knows who I should see, but he's decided 'baby steps' or some shit like that, so here I am. I need an invite. I've got something in me, something big, something bad, and I want it out. I know you can sense it. So point me in the right direction. I've talked to every charlatan in town, you're my last hope here."
Jip shifted his gaze to his companion. "If you'd be so kind to enlighten me..."
"He doesn't know what you need, Warren. Too bad. Now lets go get that drink and talk about, oh, sensible options?" Kevin said as his started to try and hustle Warren out.
Letting out a theatrical sigh, Jip shook his head. "Why do men always have to be so difficult? If you insist on doing this the hard way..." Mr. Jip's hand flashed out, grabbing Kevin's hand, leaning forward and licking it before Warren or Kevin had the chance to do something. "Ahhh, I see. It is the Mistress Satanna you'd be wanting."
Now that was the funniest thing Warren had seen all night. "Yup, that's right," he said, still looking at Kevin. He had no idea that was the name of the person, which just showed how little Kevin trusted him. "And you might want to get a penicillin shot for that. You have no idea where he's been."
"Try that again and you're going to need fucking years to come back from me killing you." Kevin recoiled, wanting to go for his gun but stopping. Now Worthington had literally the last name he wanted him to find.
"Ignore him, he's a miserable fucking human being." Warren was more interested in the reaction. "Satanna. That sounds good. Who is she? I want to meet her. Tell me more."
"One of of the supposed daughters of Beelzebub and so on and on. Rather powerful. So she is the one you want to meet?"
"He doesn't and you don't. This isn't the bubblegum bullshit you've been tossing money at, Worthington. This is dangerously real stuff even the Agency stepped carefully around. You can hurt more than yourself playing around here."
Typical for Warren, he completely ignored everything Kevin was saying, almost pretending he wasn't even there. "That's the one! Powerful. That's what I need -- someone powerful to remove .... this " He pointed randomly at himself. "I'll give you whatever you want. I mean, geez -- what's 5 minutes? A lame orgasm? I can live without that."
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jip carefully eyed Warren. "If so, then take this and prick your finger with it." He held out an sterile lancet, still in it's packaging.
Warren gave a sharp laugh. "Oh, now we're into blood play?" The older man remained cryptic though, simply looking at Warren with those weird, ageless, morphing eyes. "Whatever, fuck it. I'm already in this far." Ripping open the package, he pricked his finger and looked in horror when a blue, crystal like substance welled. "Jesus christ!" Without noticing, a cup had been placed into Warren's other hand, and he instinctively squeezed his finger into it, watching as the fluid oozed out into the jar. It shouldn't have been this much, not from a simple lancet, but this was what he had signed up for. When the cup reached some sort of pre-determined level, the wound closed over, as if nothing was there. With a slightly shaky hand, Warren handed the cup to Mr. Jip.
Jip carefully inspected the substance for a moment, then set the cup to his lips and 'drank' it down. For a moment nothing seemed to happen, but then a shudder went through him and with a low moan three small white feathers burst through on both sides of his head, each just above and behind his ears. "The deal is sealed." Jip announced when he had opened his eyes again.
He pulled over a piece of creamy vellum, a small pot of black ink and an goose feather pen. Grabbing another lancet, he quickly dropped of his blood into the ink and then penned the needed letter of reference.
It was with a barely hidden disgust that Warren watched all this take place. "So that's it? No mystic 'all will be revealed' crap? You're giving me an actual letter?"
"Oh ye of little faith." Jip slipped the letter in parchment envelope before sealing it with some wax and handing it to Warren. Then he reached over to grab a small case. From it he pulled a needle and a thread. Tying the thread in the middle of the needle, Jip fashioned an primitive compass. Finally he lifted it to his lips and licked the needle, before handing it to Kevin. "And now you have everything you need to speak with the Mistress Satanna. I wish you much luck."
Now shit was starting to get real. Fooling around with the frauds and bottom feeders of NYC's magical underground was one thing. Dealing with people who actually had some power, that was another. The CIA had never admitted in any way that magic existed, but had agents and teams deeply buried under top secret clearances to keep an eye on things. Most of what they'd put together was a list of names that weren't just bullshit operators.
Mr. Jip was one of them. He was some kind of fixer; a parasite with the instincts of a dealer who had turned an ability to acquire what people wanted into a position of influence in the community. The files reminded Kevin of a Corporal he'd served with; Henson. You wanted a ball of hash, he'd find a way to make it work. A back-up piece not authorized by the brass? Sure. Once, a crate of Kansas City T-bones in a forward firebase that even the Colonel couldn't authorize.
The difference was Henson did it for money. Rumour was that with Jip, lives were involved.
"Here's the deal. I explain your problem and consider the options. If there's a safe one, I'll agree. If not, we walk and I'll put out feelers for someone else. Understood?"
Warren was jittery. This whole evening was weird, after crab lady took off and Kevin appeared out of nowhere.
To be honest, Warren still wasn't convince Kevin wasn't a figment of his imagination. It was pretty damn probable, really...
"Sure, whatever." The billionaire waved a hand dismissively. He'd agree to anything right now to meet Mr. Jip. He wasn't going to think farther than that.
"I swear to god, humanity would thank me if I killed you, assumed your identity and actually did something worthwhile with your life." Kevin muttered. It wasn't entirely an idle thought. They both went down the concrete steps in the front of the dilapidated kitchen supply shop, knocking on the delivery door.
The metal door rolled open with a high pitch whine, slowly revealing the strangely mottled hair and skin of the man standing just behind it. It was a medley of all known skin tones and hair colors. A sudden genial smile revealed blinking white teeth. "Welcome gentlemen. Come in, come in."
"Yeah, yeah. theatrics." Kevin muttered as he followed Warren it. It was his show, after all.
Warren ignored Kevin and followed the creepy guy inside. "You know who I am, right?" He naturally assumed everyone knew who he was, but it was his standard question with these assumed beings of magic. If they couldn't figure out who he was and why he was there, they were useless to him. "And why I'm here?"
"You'd only be here because you want or need something." Jip guided them to a room that didn't fit the store it was in, with everything draped with deep purple and grey velours and a soft light coming from hidden corners. "I can get you what you need." He added after he had gestured for them to take a seat on the couch. "But be warned, there is a price."
"Money is no object. Name it and it's yours." Warren took out his cell phone and started pushing a few buttons. "How many millions are we talking here?"
"Such an innocent boy. We don't trade her for such fleeting things." Jip shook his head. "No... no... here we trade for something far more precious. A few grains of sand from the hourglass that is your life."
Warren looked at Jip blankly. "Wait -- what? I don't think I understand what you're saying."
"I think I do. Let me guess, he gives you some of his life. Magically, or something. And when you're supposed to die, you get to use it to extend your own?" Kevin said. "Which is how you've been supposed operating since the late 1800s, right?"
Jip studied the other man with interest. "So do we have an initiate here? Or one who has simply learned to listen? Ah, it does not matter." Turning back to Warren, Jip continued: "Your companion here is right. I give you what you need. You give me a few grains of sand from the hourglass that is your life to add to my own. Quite simple actually."
"A few grains? What is that in American conversion? Like ...10 minutes? An hour? A day?" He gave a short laugh. "I don't think it fucking matters, but I bet my companion here will bitch no matter what I do."
"Perhaps you should first share what it is that you seek." Jip leaned forward,, catching his customer with his disconcerting eyes. "I cannot name a price if I don't know what it's for."
"I know you're not the one I want to see," Warren said bluntly. "Kevin over here knows who I should see, but he's decided 'baby steps' or some shit like that, so here I am. I need an invite. I've got something in me, something big, something bad, and I want it out. I know you can sense it. So point me in the right direction. I've talked to every charlatan in town, you're my last hope here."
Jip shifted his gaze to his companion. "If you'd be so kind to enlighten me..."
"He doesn't know what you need, Warren. Too bad. Now lets go get that drink and talk about, oh, sensible options?" Kevin said as his started to try and hustle Warren out.
Letting out a theatrical sigh, Jip shook his head. "Why do men always have to be so difficult? If you insist on doing this the hard way..." Mr. Jip's hand flashed out, grabbing Kevin's hand, leaning forward and licking it before Warren or Kevin had the chance to do something. "Ahhh, I see. It is the Mistress Satanna you'd be wanting."
Now that was the funniest thing Warren had seen all night. "Yup, that's right," he said, still looking at Kevin. He had no idea that was the name of the person, which just showed how little Kevin trusted him. "And you might want to get a penicillin shot for that. You have no idea where he's been."
"Try that again and you're going to need fucking years to come back from me killing you." Kevin recoiled, wanting to go for his gun but stopping. Now Worthington had literally the last name he wanted him to find.
"Ignore him, he's a miserable fucking human being." Warren was more interested in the reaction. "Satanna. That sounds good. Who is she? I want to meet her. Tell me more."
"One of of the supposed daughters of Beelzebub and so on and on. Rather powerful. So she is the one you want to meet?"
"He doesn't and you don't. This isn't the bubblegum bullshit you've been tossing money at, Worthington. This is dangerously real stuff even the Agency stepped carefully around. You can hurt more than yourself playing around here."
Typical for Warren, he completely ignored everything Kevin was saying, almost pretending he wasn't even there. "That's the one! Powerful. That's what I need -- someone powerful to remove .... this " He pointed randomly at himself. "I'll give you whatever you want. I mean, geez -- what's 5 minutes? A lame orgasm? I can live without that."
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jip carefully eyed Warren. "If so, then take this and prick your finger with it." He held out an sterile lancet, still in it's packaging.
Warren gave a sharp laugh. "Oh, now we're into blood play?" The older man remained cryptic though, simply looking at Warren with those weird, ageless, morphing eyes. "Whatever, fuck it. I'm already in this far." Ripping open the package, he pricked his finger and looked in horror when a blue, crystal like substance welled. "Jesus christ!" Without noticing, a cup had been placed into Warren's other hand, and he instinctively squeezed his finger into it, watching as the fluid oozed out into the jar. It shouldn't have been this much, not from a simple lancet, but this was what he had signed up for. When the cup reached some sort of pre-determined level, the wound closed over, as if nothing was there. With a slightly shaky hand, Warren handed the cup to Mr. Jip.
Jip carefully inspected the substance for a moment, then set the cup to his lips and 'drank' it down. For a moment nothing seemed to happen, but then a shudder went through him and with a low moan three small white feathers burst through on both sides of his head, each just above and behind his ears. "The deal is sealed." Jip announced when he had opened his eyes again.
He pulled over a piece of creamy vellum, a small pot of black ink and an goose feather pen. Grabbing another lancet, he quickly dropped of his blood into the ink and then penned the needed letter of reference.
It was with a barely hidden disgust that Warren watched all this take place. "So that's it? No mystic 'all will be revealed' crap? You're giving me an actual letter?"
"Oh ye of little faith." Jip slipped the letter in parchment envelope before sealing it with some wax and handing it to Warren. Then he reached over to grab a small case. From it he pulled a needle and a thread. Tying the thread in the middle of the needle, Jip fashioned an primitive compass. Finally he lifted it to his lips and licked the needle, before handing it to Kevin. "And now you have everything you need to speak with the Mistress Satanna. I wish you much luck."
