I stared at the masked man quizzically as his deep voice emerged from his facade.
"Welcome to the Hard Easy, fish."
Fish?
I had so many questions.
"Used to be the Big Easy. But life got hard. Go figure."
His hood fluttered gently with the night air. A pair leather gloves squished the walking stick he held so firmly. I raised an eyebrow. This guy seemed to do things a little differently.
"Why shouldn't I kill you?" he asked, eyes deep and dark and boring into me past the little eye gaps in his mask.
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ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ᵐᵃⁿ, '³⁸
"Why should you?"
My nonchalance seemed to shock him. But honestly, between the Fireflies, the Purple Emperor, and FEDRA, a local little pusher gang under the cover of moonshine wasn't going to intimidate me. I cocked my head gently to the side. He scoffed.
"Come with me."
I turned behind me, smiling as I saw Ellie chugging some moonshine and draped across some other drunks, gifting them her wisdom on the subject of dad jokes. She'd be fine.
I turned back to the mysterious masked man, and nodded. He didn't miss the object of my concern, and clearly made a note of it. But he did nothing about it, simply walking into the haze of darker back alleys and corners. I followed, fingers brushing over my pocketed switchblade as my leg flexed forward and backwards.
Was it safe? No.
But this guy, he'd said what he'd said. I couldn't pass up a lead like that.
The buildings got older, and we approached an old brick building, taller than most of the surrounding houses in the French Quarter, and wider too. In the dim light, if I squinted my eyes I could make out the old printed word on the red brick, that read:
