Shingle wakes up the next morning feeling fresh. He calls his boss and tells him he's quitting McDonalds, and to his surprise, not much was said. He went downstairs and cooked a grilled cheese.
As he goes upstairs, he can't stop thinking about this new drug business, and how it's nearly official now. Suddenly, Shingle's computer dings with an incoming email from an unknown number. He opens it and reads:
"I know what you're up to. Meet me tonight at 10 pm by the River Sombra. Come alone."
Shingle feels a chill run down his spine. Who could possibly know about his plans? Is it the police, or someone in a rival gang to the ACB?
He spends the rest of the day on edge, unable to focus on anything else. He tries to shake off the feeling of paranoia, but it's always there, lurking in the back of his mind.
As night falls, he drives to the river, trying to remain calm. He parks his car and steps out, looking around for anyone who might be watching him.
After a few minutes of waiting, he sees a figure coming towards him. It's a man wearing a hooded jacket, with his face obscured.
Shingle: Who are you? What do you want?
???: I know about your plans. I know what you're planning to do with that property in Gibet.
Shingle feels his heart racing. He's terrified, but he tries to keep his composure.
Shingle: Who are you? How do you know about this?
???: That's not important. What's important is that you learn who your friends and enemies are.
Shingle's mind races. He can't think of anyone who would know about his plans for the property in Gibet. Could it be Tony trying to double-cross him? Or someone from a rival gang trying to intimidate him?
Shingle: Look, I don't know who you are, but I'm not interested in playing games. If you have something to say, say it.
???: Very well. I have a proposition for you. I can help you with your plans for the drug trafficking, but in exchange, I want a cut of the profits.
Shingle's initial shock turns into curiosity. He had been struggling to secure the necessary funds for his project. If this mysterious figure could help him, it might be worth hearing him out.
Shingle: Okay, I'm listening. What do you have in mind?
???: Meet me at this address tomorrow. We can discuss the details then.
The figure hands Shingle a piece of paper with an address on it and then disappears into the night.
Shingle is left standing by the river, his mind buzzing with questions. Who was that person? Could he really help him with his plans? And if so, what would he want in return?
As he drives home, Shingle can't shake the feeling that he's just made a deal with the devil. But he's desperate enough to take the risk. He'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out if it was worth it.
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The following day, Shingle drives to the address given to him by the mysterious figure. It's a rundown warehouse on the outskirts of town. As he approaches, he notices a few men standing outside, eyeing him suspiciously.
Shingle hesitates for a moment, wondering if he's making a mistake by going inside. But he reminds himself that he needs the help of this person, whoever they may be.
He steps out of the car and walks towards the men, trying to look confident despite his nerves.
Shingle: I'm here to meet someone. Can you tell me where to go?
???: You need to be searched. We don't know if we can trust you yet.
One of the men pats him up and down, then nods his head towards the door.
???: Go inside. Second door on your right.
Shingle thanks him and walks into the warehouse. It's dark inside, and he can barely make out the shapes of equipment and machinery scattered throughout the space.
He walks to the second door on his right and knocks. A voice from inside tells him to come in.
Shingle opens the door to find the man sitting behind a desk, smoking a blunt. The man gestures for Shingle to sit down.
???: So, you're interested in my proposition?
Shingle nods, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension.
Shingle: Yes, I am. But first, I need to know who you are.
The man takes a long drag of his weed before answering.
???: My name is Jack. I have connections that could help you with your project. But it won't be cheap.
Shingle: What kind of connections?
Jack leans forward, his eyes fixed on Shingle.
Jack: The kind that can get you the funding you need, as well as the necessary fake permits and documents to cover our tracks. But you'll need to pay me a percentage of your profits.
Shingle considers this for a moment. It's a lot of money, but he knows he'll never be able to pull off his plans without help.
Shingle: How much are we talking?
Jack: 30%
That makes Shingle's heart sink.
Shingle: Uh, I'm already giving my other guy a lot of the profit. I'm not sure if I can give you that.
Jack: That's too bad. I guess we don't have a deal, then.
Shingle stands up, feeling defeated.
Shingle: Wait. Is there any way we can negotiate?
Jack looks at him skeptically.
Jack: Maybe. But you'll have to come up with something good. Something that shows me you're serious.
Shingle thinks for a moment, then an idea comes to him.
Shingle: What if I give you a stake in the property itself? You'll get 15% of the profits, but you'll also own a portion of the land, and that way you can own some of the lab.
Jack considers this for a moment, then nods slowly.
Jack: Alright. I'll consider it. But it better be a good deal for me.
Shingle feels a surge of hope. He knows he has a lot of work to do to make this happen, but he's determined to make it work.
As he walks out of the warehouse, he feels a sense of excitement and dread. He's taking a big risk, but he knows it's the only way to achieve his dreams.
He'll have to wait and see if it pays off.
YOU ARE READING
Crimson Duty
ActionA really big story created as a spinoff to The Gang. This story is meant to represent the criminal life Shingle lives in an alternate universe. This story is NOT meant to be a series. Please do not wait for a second story. Alternate Republic of Cong...
