The Brotherhood of The Black Rats

2.11 The Witch In Red Robes

PART II

11| The Witch in Red Robes

A cold day followed as the brisk November weather crept over Manhattan the following afternoon.  The sudden shift in temperature brought the winter coats out in full force along Lower Manhattan's streets, despite an unseasonably warm afternoon the day before. At Fourteenth and Broadway, dozens of surprised New Yorkers ascended the stairwell at Union Square only to be greeted by the warmth of a late morning sun shining down brightly on the concrete jungle and its inhabitants. Among them were two Black Rats, each dressed in a black pea coat perfect for whatever changes in climate the day would hold. 

"You sure you're going to be alright with this, Kai?" asked Simon as the pair made their way across the public lawn at Union Square that afternoon

"I'm sure," replied the Fortune Teller. "The last thing you need to worry about is me and her."

"I only worry because you're my second," said Simon. "And I've seen it happen before."

"Have you now?" asked Kai.

"Aye, it's a classic tale," the Alchemist began. "Boy meets girl at a renaissance festival, boy falls hard for girl after pulling off his first big score with the Black Rats..." He continued watching Kai become visibly more distraught. "...Then girl leaves boy stranded on a zombie-infested island to go join an elite lesbian fighting force—"

"Simon!" injected Kai. "The past is the past. I don't want to see her anymore than she wants to see me."

"Bullshit," replied Simon. "Just promise me you won't do anything stupid like blow your cover when we're in the thick of it."

"You know I won't," said Kai.

"Aye, I know you won't, brother, I know you won't. How the heck did you ever get off that island anyway? I don't think you ever told me."

"One day I will, Simon. I promise."

As the two made their way towards Alphabet City they passed the standard array of street vendors out peddling their wares to the mid-day crowd. Anything from scarves, paintings, and pottery, to knock-off handbags and enormous glass smoking pipes, could be had, and those were just from the mundane merchants.

They turned on to Second Avenue and found the painted red building nestled between a Laundromat and a KFC. The words “Professor Thom’s” were scrawled in cursive gold letters above a doorway, which boasted an unsettling amount of Boston Red Sox propaganda for a bar in New York City. But neither of the young men approaching it had come for sports

"This it?" asked Kai, eyeing the green paper shamrock taped to the front window.

"Sure is," answered Simon. "Now just let me do all the talking on this one alright. Bloom knows me and owes me a few favors."

Kai nodded his acknowledgment as the pair made their way in from the mild cold. What greeted them was a typical sports bar, polluted by the noise of its multiple televisions and the multiple sporting events upon them, and coupled with the lingering scent of buffalo sauce that hung in the air. 

The last of the mundane liquid lunch crowd was thinning out as they entered. The first floor of the bar was empty, save a sole bartender at work cleaning glassware before the coming storm known as happy hour rampaged through the doors. He looked up from his station as Simon and Kai approached. 

“What will it be, guys?” he asked, hopeful for their patronage. 

“We’re here to see Bloom. Is he around?” asked Simon.