Chapter 199: 199
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Once Hunter's screaming mother came in to raise all hell, Al took the distraction to extricate himself from family affairs he didn't want to have any part of. Almost a minute later, an out of breath and tired looking Devon joined him in the elevator going down. Speed and better familiarity with the hospital beat Al's determination.
"You said you came because you thought it was me. What did you see that caused you to think that?" Devon said with concern.
"The shoes. There's not a whole lot of those with lime green soles," Al said wryly.
"A lot of people have those shoes. They're popular," Devon said defensively.
He looked at the younger man and shot back, "Yet here we are. Your nephew was shot because of them and I came here for the same reason. They might be popular but they also stand out and I doubt there's lots of people running around with brightly colored shoes worth close to 200 dollars in your neighborhood. No offense meant. I'm just trying to illustrate a point."
Defensiveness climbing and looking irritated, Devon said, "And what point is that?"
Sighing, Al said, "The Chinese have a saying that owning a jade ring when you're poor is a crime... I'd say, if you're going to have nice things in a bad neighborhood, you shouldn't make them stand out like a sore thumb, especially when the money that bought them came from bad people not too far away. I don't need to know but ask yourself, what shoes where you wearing when you had your fun, Robin Hood? Why does your nephew have the same kind of shoe on his foot?"
Devon was about to answer those questions at Al, probably with a bit of snark, but the older man cut him off.
"It's little details like that. Don't sh*t where you eat seems to apply as well... I hope you realize just how dangerous things have gotten. Drug dealers don't need conclusive evidence or a trial to target you. They're more than willing to kill the innocent to keep the guilty from getting away."
"Alright! I get it. What would you do?" Devon asked.
Al thought about it and said, "I'd buy a couple more around my size, make them a little less new looking and anonymously donate them to people I don't particularly like. It's even better if they're likely to be people who also go to get goods from the places you robbed and can wear them. A little tough to pull off perfect but that's what I'd do.
Thinking some more, he added, "And get your cover business up as soon as possible. That way, when they look at your way for having money, you can point at your business. Hopefully it won't reach that point or they might find some other way to squeeze you, even if you were capable of convincing them you were innocent. But between worst and best, that's not the worst.
"Wait... I just realized. I thought your brother was in jail. What's he doing here at the hospital?"
Devon smiled proudly. "Emergency overcrowding parole... Expedited for this morning."
Al didn't say anything. He just shook his head and walked away.
Seeing that Devon followed him all the way to his car, Al asked what he wanted.
"What's the matter? Are you upset that I thought of something you didn't or something?" Devon said, trying to sound cocky but coming off nervous.
In a voice barely over a whisper, the older man said, "Please tell me you didn't hack a government system that's monitored by the FBI like a HAWK, from your home computer."
"Library, and I added a few other names to the list. I even put one on there that's a lot more attention grabbing. IF they figure out what happened, they'll think it was for that guy," Devon said, pride returning.
Al said, "I can't even advise you on that one. It might work or it might not but once you're on the fed's watch list, who knows how long you'll be on it and how they'll be watching you, listening. Privacy is a joke at that point. The only sure safety and security in this modern world is either being unimportant or too important.
"By the way, if you tell your brother about the key, we're done. Let him think you're a hacker or something. You said your brother was fighting to stay clean for his son's sake. You might want to think very carefully about what it means if he backslides with that kind of knowledge."
Devon said, "He's fam. He can be trusted. I need to have someone else using the key anyway."
Al said, "No, you need to slow down and take your time. Stop using the key and set up your business. If you hand that thing to your brother, you can't control what he will do with it much the same way I can't control you but try to help you with what I can... Will he listen to you? I sure as hell can tell he'd rather not listen to me.
"Look, it's not really a matter of trust. It's a matter of temptation. 99.9% of the time trustworthy means a one in a thousand not. That's a matter of when, not if, when you're deal with something like that key. I'm not asking you to not help or involve him. He could be the manager of your company, help you set it up so that when you go legit, he has his own legal slice of a very nice pie if you play it smart."
Devon's face looked sour. "You didn't seem so picky when you gave it to me."
Al sighed. "I wasn't but then I realized what I had done and felt guilty. I drew you a map to a way out from underneath it... It's not too late to involve him when you have the resources, time and preparations for covering up mistakes. You give in to that siren's call one to many times, you're going to drown, maybe take people with you. Maybe think real hard before you involve someone else who might not have the strength to resist."
Devon sneered and said, "That's not really up to you."
Al called the key back to him and then handed it to Devon. "It is but I'm trying to trust you long enough for you to make something better for your life. Respect the discipline it takes to use it responsibly and fear the consequences of using it poorly. It is a useful but dangerous tool."
Looking worried, Devon said, "Don't take it away. I'll-"
Feeling a little older than usual, Al said, "Don't threaten me. There's no need. I won't take it away unless you keep overusing it til it makes you sick, you get yourself killed or you start giving it to other people.
"If you don't like the plan I laid out for you, make your own and send me a phone in the mail to talk with you on. Otherwise, you know where to find me. Don't bring trouble to me or you WON'T know where to find me."
After driving back to his house, he cast presto on the duffel money and went to get a computer. Two more days of work later and he had found a nice car after doing some online advertisement shopping. Over that time, Al realized that the trickle of essence didn't stop.
He couldn't store much before it would spill out but that only happened a couple of times before the gold ring on his finger started sucking it up like a weak, starving animal that suddenly realized there was food nearby. With some experimenting, he found that he could use the ring to empty all his essence into and let the incoming trickle fill his pitiful tank back up. Every few times doing that, it would get just a tiny bit bigger.
During one such event of ring feeding, he felt the smallest bit of something else in him go into the ring. For a split second, he could see inside the fairly large space inside the big ruby and realized that he could use the ring for something other than a large backup battery. The last day before his part-time work would resume in the records office, he managed to hold his feeble spirit sense long enough to check out the rest of the ring's several smaller compartments. There wasn't much but there were some interesting things.
Three of the smaller spaces were piled with the various gifts White had received from 'his' kids over the years. Most of it was 'precious' sentimental junk that Al didn't have the heart to get rid of but a couple of Tait's and his daughter's turned out to be quite exciting finds. Among the eventually spoiled first successful attempts at making one thing or another there were a few scrolls that Tait had made and some magical potions his daughter had concocted that were still viable.
It was strange rummaging through someone else's life and some of the things inside the ring were so private and personal, he had to fight a sense of growing shame for discovering them but he still couldn't get himself to throw them away. It felt wrong, like he was a keeper of something that belonged to someone else. Still, there were things among them that were practical and useful that he saw no harm in 'borrowing' til he was buried and lost within the pieces of the rightful owner.
There was an 'ever sharp' blade that Lyra had commissioned a man named Thorrinson to create. Between Gan and his eldest, there were enough furs and leathers to open a store and get beaten to death by animal rights activists. From the practical and caring Halda, there was a travel bag full of useful things a person might need while out and about, including some carefully hidden emergency coin and a few small gems for selling.
As for White himself, he was a maker and a giver. The only things he'd held onto and horded were his precious sentimental treasures. Were it not for Halda and his later forgetfulness, White wouldn't have even had the few coins and gems that he did. A silver and brass bound journal had many musings and a few magical hobby notes but towards the end, it had rubbings of Halda and Lyra's gravestones, causing a feeling of nostalgia and sadness to wash over Al momentarily.
Within the main ruby, among a small scattering of dead or dying glows of spent eternium motes, there lay a large, thick leather bound tome. On it's cover was a tooled likeness of Droya standing beside a young Orison with an arm draped around his shoulders. Taking a peek inside, he saw that it was addressed to the 'whole' Orison and lost interest after realizing it was mostly a stitched together 'album' of sketched portraits and short biographies with Therridel's small but legible signature plastered around.
Al filed all that away into the back of his mind. Whatever time was left to be his, in his own life, he wanted it to be about him. The feelings and connections of the rest could wait as far as he was concerned. In a vague recollection, he recognized how he had become the way he was and didn't so much regret it as wanted to relish what time he had left to be 'Al'. He figured he was owed that touch of selfishness and didn't feel bad about it in the least.
After that bold inner declaration, he felt a sense of peace. Looking past the the ego and vanity of himself, he knew that he'd never really cease to exist within that 'whole' other person. He wondered if Red would eventually be able to find that same peace of if that one would rant and rail to the bitter end, unable to accept be simply a part of something else rather than a sovereign individual.
Al was fairly certain that reality wouldn't let there be much of a choice. Their fractured existence was due to a spell. And no matter the power of a spell, it's purpose was clear and their splintered state was not a part of its workings. He just hoped that Red wouldn't end up doing something drastic or dangerous that could threaten the whole before Red's long good night.
Over the next couple of weeks, not much changed. In his spare time, Al had become proficient enough with the pitiful magical gift he could use to spit out a nice variety of parlor trick level magic that felt more ability-like than actual spell. It put a smile on his face and it was fun without being dangerous. For an easily content person like Al, it was more than enough.
Using a bit of the dwindled duffel fund, he managed to substitute together a recipe for the 'four days of hell' physical readjustment treatments that he spaced out much like the 'second' Neil experienced. With no magical ingredients to work with but a potion that could be repurposed, the effects weren't as dramatic but he still felt fairly cleansed, modestly more healthy and a little more receptive to the benefits of the light exercise he could coax himself into doing.
As much as the driven Orison of Al's memories would scoff at the 'halfhearted' dedication, those who knew him would be awed by the 'monumental' effort Al was managing to squeeze out of himself. It didn't matter. First and foremost, Al was doing what made him feel happy and accomplished. It was a relatively forgotten sensation and he was savoring it like a rare treat.
With his niece's birthday coming up and wanting a few more things himself, Al decided to take some time to research the best way to liquidate the coins and gems in the travel pack. It became a hassle of a project that cost him the rest of his savings on professional appraisals and creating a history for how he came into possession of them. As if to mock him, there wasn't any additional funds for quite some time due to legal red tape that had become far more astringent on things like gems and precious metal.
"If I had known it would be this big of a pain in the a**, I probably would have just taken them to a larger pawn shop for the five to ten percent they would have given me," Al grumbled.
Being in a modern world had many perks but the slow crushing weight of accountability and surveillance was stifling. He'd never been so aware of how little personal freedom and privacy was left until after going through the heinous process of unloading a few 'heirlooms' for a decent value. Annoyance endured, he had a nice chunk in his account again.
After getting his old beater car fixed up a bit, he signed it over to his niece as a belated birthday present. Afterwards, her boyfriend bummed a few bucks off of him once they were done going out for dinner. Chuckling inwardly that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same, he went home.
Upon returning home, an unpleasant surprise waited for him. Devon was sitting on his couch while he could hear the sounds of someone getting sick in the bathroom. The young man quickly gave him a break down.
Seeing no reason to limit himself, Devon opened a tree service AND small home repair business. Deshawn proved to be a real asset since he was not only handyman capable but had a decent head for accounting. The only problem was, the people looking to get on and would be their staple crew, had issues.
Just starting up with no reputation, it was hard enough to find high functioning addicts and people with only mildly dysfunctional home lives, much less clean and respectable crew. The brothers had a long term plan but for the present, had to take what they could get or it would never lift off the ground. Associating with that crowd had Deshawn backsliding.
Catching it relatively early, or so he thought, Devon gave his older brother an ultimatum. He had to clean up and keep clean if he wanted to manage the business when Devon was ready for stage two. It helped that Deshawn really did WANT to be right. He'd missed a lot of his kids life and when Hunter had been shot, it shook his world up.
"That doesn't explain why you're here," Al said in exasperation.
Devon said, "Well, I slowed down on the, you know, things I do. Setting up the business and all that has left me kind of tapped. I was wondering if you could let my brother stay here for just a day or two til he gets over the shakes and stuff. He doesn't want the fam to see it and if he was at one of those motels, he'd be too... close... to the problem that got him like this."
Al sighed. "Alright. Why not. Between the advice and this, we're even on your duffel surprise, though. So, don't come throwing that in my face later."
The young man couldn't seem to get out of the place fast enough. Once Al saw what kind of mess Deshawn was in, he felt kind of duped. It wasn't light symptoms the older brother was having. And to top it off, they were dangerously mixed.
"Alright, White. I hear you in there. You've been nice about letting me be me. I can do this one for you," Al muttered in annoyance as he got his herbal kit together for a detox his sick peer had never experienced before.
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Once Hunter's screaming mother came in to raise all hell, Al took the distraction to extricate himself from family affairs he didn't want to have any part of. Almost a minute later, an out of breath and tired looking Devon joined him in the elevator going down. Speed and better familiarity with the hospital beat Al's determination.
"You said you came because you thought it was me. What did you see that caused you to think that?" Devon said with concern.
"The shoes. There's not a whole lot of those with lime green soles," Al said wryly.
"A lot of people have those shoes. They're popular," Devon said defensively.
He looked at the younger man and shot back, "Yet here we are. Your nephew was shot because of them and I came here for the same reason. They might be popular but they also stand out and I doubt there's lots of people running around with brightly colored shoes worth close to 200 dollars in your neighborhood. No offense meant. I'm just trying to illustrate a point."
Defensiveness climbing and looking irritated, Devon said, "And what point is that?"
Sighing, Al said, "The Chinese have a saying that owning a jade ring when you're poor is a crime... I'd say, if you're going to have nice things in a bad neighborhood, you shouldn't make them stand out like a sore thumb, especially when the money that bought them came from bad people not too far away. I don't need to know but ask yourself, what shoes where you wearing when you had your fun, Robin Hood? Why does your nephew have the same kind of shoe on his foot?"
Devon was about to answer those questions at Al, probably with a bit of snark, but the older man cut him off.
"It's little details like that. Don't sh*t where you eat seems to apply as well... I hope you realize just how dangerous things have gotten. Drug dealers don't need conclusive evidence or a trial to target you. They're more than willing to kill the innocent to keep the guilty from getting away."
"Alright! I get it. What would you do?" Devon asked.
Al thought about it and said, "I'd buy a couple more around my size, make them a little less new looking and anonymously donate them to people I don't particularly like. It's even better if they're likely to be people who also go to get goods from the places you robbed and can wear them. A little tough to pull off perfect but that's what I'd do.
Thinking some more, he added, "And get your cover business up as soon as possible. That way, when they look at your way for having money, you can point at your business. Hopefully it won't reach that point or they might find some other way to squeeze you, even if you were capable of convincing them you were innocent. But between worst and best, that's not the worst.
"Wait... I just realized. I thought your brother was in jail. What's he doing here at the hospital?"
Devon smiled proudly. "Emergency overcrowding parole... Expedited for this morning."
Al didn't say anything. He just shook his head and walked away.
Seeing that Devon followed him all the way to his car, Al asked what he wanted.
"What's the matter? Are you upset that I thought of something you didn't or something?" Devon said, trying to sound cocky but coming off nervous.
In a voice barely over a whisper, the older man said, "Please tell me you didn't hack a government system that's monitored by the FBI like a HAWK, from your home computer."
"Library, and I added a few other names to the list. I even put one on there that's a lot more attention grabbing. IF they figure out what happened, they'll think it was for that guy," Devon said, pride returning.
Al said, "I can't even advise you on that one. It might work or it might not but once you're on the fed's watch list, who knows how long you'll be on it and how they'll be watching you, listening. Privacy is a joke at that point. The only sure safety and security in this modern world is either being unimportant or too important.
"By the way, if you tell your brother about the key, we're done. Let him think you're a hacker or something. You said your brother was fighting to stay clean for his son's sake. You might want to think very carefully about what it means if he backslides with that kind of knowledge."
Devon said, "He's fam. He can be trusted. I need to have someone else using the key anyway."
Al said, "No, you need to slow down and take your time. Stop using the key and set up your business. If you hand that thing to your brother, you can't control what he will do with it much the same way I can't control you but try to help you with what I can... Will he listen to you? I sure as hell can tell he'd rather not listen to me.
"Look, it's not really a matter of trust. It's a matter of temptation. 99.9% of the time trustworthy means a one in a thousand not. That's a matter of when, not if, when you're deal with something like that key. I'm not asking you to not help or involve him. He could be the manager of your company, help you set it up so that when you go legit, he has his own legal slice of a very nice pie if you play it smart."
Devon's face looked sour. "You didn't seem so picky when you gave it to me."
Al sighed. "I wasn't but then I realized what I had done and felt guilty. I drew you a map to a way out from underneath it... It's not too late to involve him when you have the resources, time and preparations for covering up mistakes. You give in to that siren's call one to many times, you're going to drown, maybe take people with you. Maybe think real hard before you involve someone else who might not have the strength to resist."
Devon sneered and said, "That's not really up to you."
Al called the key back to him and then handed it to Devon. "It is but I'm trying to trust you long enough for you to make something better for your life. Respect the discipline it takes to use it responsibly and fear the consequences of using it poorly. It is a useful but dangerous tool."
Looking worried, Devon said, "Don't take it away. I'll-"
Feeling a little older than usual, Al said, "Don't threaten me. There's no need. I won't take it away unless you keep overusing it til it makes you sick, you get yourself killed or you start giving it to other people.
"If you don't like the plan I laid out for you, make your own and send me a phone in the mail to talk with you on. Otherwise, you know where to find me. Don't bring trouble to me or you WON'T know where to find me."
After driving back to his house, he cast presto on the duffel money and went to get a computer. Two more days of work later and he had found a nice car after doing some online advertisement shopping. Over that time, Al realized that the trickle of essence didn't stop.
He couldn't store much before it would spill out but that only happened a couple of times before the gold ring on his finger started sucking it up like a weak, starving animal that suddenly realized there was food nearby. With some experimenting, he found that he could use the ring to empty all his essence into and let the incoming trickle fill his pitiful tank back up. Every few times doing that, it would get just a tiny bit bigger.
During one such event of ring feeding, he felt the smallest bit of something else in him go into the ring. For a split second, he could see inside the fairly large space inside the big ruby and realized that he could use the ring for something other than a large backup battery. The last day before his part-time work would resume in the records office, he managed to hold his feeble spirit sense long enough to check out the rest of the ring's several smaller compartments. There wasn't much but there were some interesting things.
Three of the smaller spaces were piled with the various gifts White had received from 'his' kids over the years. Most of it was 'precious' sentimental junk that Al didn't have the heart to get rid of but a couple of Tait's and his daughter's turned out to be quite exciting finds. Among the eventually spoiled first successful attempts at making one thing or another there were a few scrolls that Tait had made and some magical potions his daughter had concocted that were still viable.
It was strange rummaging through someone else's life and some of the things inside the ring were so private and personal, he had to fight a sense of growing shame for discovering them but he still couldn't get himself to throw them away. It felt wrong, like he was a keeper of something that belonged to someone else. Still, there were things among them that were practical and useful that he saw no harm in 'borrowing' til he was buried and lost within the pieces of the rightful owner.
There was an 'ever sharp' blade that Lyra had commissioned a man named Thorrinson to create. Between Gan and his eldest, there were enough furs and leathers to open a store and get beaten to death by animal rights activists. From the practical and caring Halda, there was a travel bag full of useful things a person might need while out and about, including some carefully hidden emergency coin and a few small gems for selling.
As for White himself, he was a maker and a giver. The only things he'd held onto and horded were his precious sentimental treasures. Were it not for Halda and his later forgetfulness, White wouldn't have even had the few coins and gems that he did. A silver and brass bound journal had many musings and a few magical hobby notes but towards the end, it had rubbings of Halda and Lyra's gravestones, causing a feeling of nostalgia and sadness to wash over Al momentarily.
Within the main ruby, among a small scattering of dead or dying glows of spent eternium motes, there lay a large, thick leather bound tome. On it's cover was a tooled likeness of Droya standing beside a young Orison with an arm draped around his shoulders. Taking a peek inside, he saw that it was addressed to the 'whole' Orison and lost interest after realizing it was mostly a stitched together 'album' of sketched portraits and short biographies with Therridel's small but legible signature plastered around.
Al filed all that away into the back of his mind. Whatever time was left to be his, in his own life, he wanted it to be about him. The feelings and connections of the rest could wait as far as he was concerned. In a vague recollection, he recognized how he had become the way he was and didn't so much regret it as wanted to relish what time he had left to be 'Al'. He figured he was owed that touch of selfishness and didn't feel bad about it in the least.
After that bold inner declaration, he felt a sense of peace. Looking past the the ego and vanity of himself, he knew that he'd never really cease to exist within that 'whole' other person. He wondered if Red would eventually be able to find that same peace of if that one would rant and rail to the bitter end, unable to accept be simply a part of something else rather than a sovereign individual.
Al was fairly certain that reality wouldn't let there be much of a choice. Their fractured existence was due to a spell. And no matter the power of a spell, it's purpose was clear and their splintered state was not a part of its workings. He just hoped that Red wouldn't end up doing something drastic or dangerous that could threaten the whole before Red's long good night.
Over the next couple of weeks, not much changed. In his spare time, Al had become proficient enough with the pitiful magical gift he could use to spit out a nice variety of parlor trick level magic that felt more ability-like than actual spell. It put a smile on his face and it was fun without being dangerous. For an easily content person like Al, it was more than enough.
Using a bit of the dwindled duffel fund, he managed to substitute together a recipe for the 'four days of hell' physical readjustment treatments that he spaced out much like the 'second' Neil experienced. With no magical ingredients to work with but a potion that could be repurposed, the effects weren't as dramatic but he still felt fairly cleansed, modestly more healthy and a little more receptive to the benefits of the light exercise he could coax himself into doing.
As much as the driven Orison of Al's memories would scoff at the 'halfhearted' dedication, those who knew him would be awed by the 'monumental' effort Al was managing to squeeze out of himself. It didn't matter. First and foremost, Al was doing what made him feel happy and accomplished. It was a relatively forgotten sensation and he was savoring it like a rare treat.
With his niece's birthday coming up and wanting a few more things himself, Al decided to take some time to research the best way to liquidate the coins and gems in the travel pack. It became a hassle of a project that cost him the rest of his savings on professional appraisals and creating a history for how he came into possession of them. As if to mock him, there wasn't any additional funds for quite some time due to legal red tape that had become far more astringent on things like gems and precious metal.
"If I had known it would be this big of a pain in the a**, I probably would have just taken them to a larger pawn shop for the five to ten percent they would have given me," Al grumbled.
Being in a modern world had many perks but the slow crushing weight of accountability and surveillance was stifling. He'd never been so aware of how little personal freedom and privacy was left until after going through the heinous process of unloading a few 'heirlooms' for a decent value. Annoyance endured, he had a nice chunk in his account again.
After getting his old beater car fixed up a bit, he signed it over to his niece as a belated birthday present. Afterwards, her boyfriend bummed a few bucks off of him once they were done going out for dinner. Chuckling inwardly that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same, he went home.
Upon returning home, an unpleasant surprise waited for him. Devon was sitting on his couch while he could hear the sounds of someone getting sick in the bathroom. The young man quickly gave him a break down.
Seeing no reason to limit himself, Devon opened a tree service AND small home repair business. Deshawn proved to be a real asset since he was not only handyman capable but had a decent head for accounting. The only problem was, the people looking to get on and would be their staple crew, had issues.
Just starting up with no reputation, it was hard enough to find high functioning addicts and people with only mildly dysfunctional home lives, much less clean and respectable crew. The brothers had a long term plan but for the present, had to take what they could get or it would never lift off the ground. Associating with that crowd had Deshawn backsliding.
Catching it relatively early, or so he thought, Devon gave his older brother an ultimatum. He had to clean up and keep clean if he wanted to manage the business when Devon was ready for stage two. It helped that Deshawn really did WANT to be right. He'd missed a lot of his kids life and when Hunter had been shot, it shook his world up.
"That doesn't explain why you're here," Al said in exasperation.
Devon said, "Well, I slowed down on the, you know, things I do. Setting up the business and all that has left me kind of tapped. I was wondering if you could let my brother stay here for just a day or two til he gets over the shakes and stuff. He doesn't want the fam to see it and if he was at one of those motels, he'd be too... close... to the problem that got him like this."
Al sighed. "Alright. Why not. Between the advice and this, we're even on your duffel surprise, though. So, don't come throwing that in my face later."
The young man couldn't seem to get out of the place fast enough. Once Al saw what kind of mess Deshawn was in, he felt kind of duped. It wasn't light symptoms the older brother was having. And to top it off, they were dangerously mixed.
"Alright, White. I hear you in there. You've been nice about letting me be me. I can do this one for you," Al muttered in annoyance as he got his herbal kit together for a detox his sick peer had never experienced before.
Once Hunter's screaming mother came in to raise all hell, Al took the distraction to extricate himself from family affairs he didn't want to have any part of. Almost a minute later, an out of breath and tired looking Devon joined him in the elevator going down. Speed and better familiarity with the hospital beat Al's determination. "You said you came because you thought it was me. What did you see that caused you to think that?" Devon said with concern. "The shoes. There's not a whole lot of those with lime green soles," Al said wryly. "A lot of people have those shoes. They're popular," Devon said defensively. He looked at the younger man and shot back, "Yet here we are. Your nephew was shot because of them and I came here for the same reason. They might be popular but they also stand out and I doubt there's lots of people running around with brightly colored shoes worth close to 200 dollars in your neighborhood. No offense meant. I'm just trying to illustrate a point." Defensiveness climbing and looking irritated, Devon said, "And what point is that?" Sighing, Al said, "The Chinese have a saying that owning a jade ring when you're poor is a crime... I'd say, if you're going to have nice things in a bad neighborhood, you shouldn't make them stand out like a sore thumb, especially when the money that bought them came from bad people not too far away. I don't need to know but ask yourself, what shoes where you wearing when you had your fun, Robin Hood? Why does your nephew have the same kind of shoe on his foot?" Devon was about to answer those questions at Al, probably with a bit of snark, but the older man cut him off. "It's little details like that. Don't sh*t where you eat seems to apply as well... I hope you realize just how dangerous things have gotten. Drug dealers don't need conclusive evidence or a trial to target you. They're more than willing to kill the innocent to keep the guilty from getting away." "Alright! I get it. What would you do?" Devon asked. Al thought about it and said, "I'd buy a couple more around my size, make them a little less new looking and anonymously donate them to people I don't particularly like. It's even better if they're likely to be people who also go to get goods from the places you robbed and can wear them. A little tough to pull off perfect but that's what I'd do. Thinking some more, he added, "And get your cover business up as soon as possible. That way, when they look at your way for having money, you can point at your business. Hopefully it won't reach that point or they might find some other way to squeeze you, even if you were capable of convincing them you were innocent. But between worst and best, that's not the worst. "Wait... I just realized. I thought your brother was in jail. What's he doing here at the hospital?" Devon smiled proudly. "Emergency overcrowding parole... Expedited for this morning." Al didn't say anything. He just shook his head and walked away. Seeing that Devon followed him all the way to his car, Al asked what he wanted. "What's the matter? Are you upset that I thought of something you didn't or something?" Devon said, trying to sound cocky but coming off nervous. In a voice barely over a whisper, the older man said, "Please tell me you didn't hack a government system that's monitored by the FBI like a HAWK, from your home computer." "Library, and I added a few other names to the list. I even put one on there that's a lot more attention grabbing. IF they figure out what happened, they'll think it was for that guy," Devon said, pride returning. Al said, "I can't even advise you on that one. It might work or it might not but once you're on the fed's watch list, who knows how long you'll be on it and how they'll be watching you, listening. Privacy is a joke at that point. The only sure safety and security in this modern world is either being unimportant or too important. "By the way, if you tell your brother about the key, we're done. Let him think you're a hacker or something. You said your brother was fighting to stay clean for his son's sake. You might want to think very carefully about what it means if he backslides with that kind of knowledge." Devon said, "He's fam. He can be trusted. I need to have someone else using the key anyway." Al said, "No, you need to slow down and take your time. Stop using the key and set up your business. If you hand that thing to your brother, you can't control what he will do with it much the same way I can't control you but try to help you with what I can... Will he listen to you? I sure as hell can tell he'd rather not listen to me. "Look, it's not really a matter of trust. It's a matter of temptation. 99.9% of the time trustworthy means a one in a thousand not. That's a matter of when, not if, when you're deal with something like that key. I'm not asking you to not help or involve him. He could be the manager of your company, help you set it up so that when you go legit, he has his own legal slice of a very nice pie if you play it smart." Devon's face looked sour. "You didn't seem so picky when you gave it to me." Al sighed. "I wasn't but then I realized what I had done and felt guilty. I drew you a map to a way out from underneath it... It's not too late to involve him when you have the resources, time and preparations for covering up mistakes. You give in to that siren's call one to many times, you're going to drown, maybe take people with you. Maybe think real hard before you involve someone else who might not have the strength to resist." Devon sneered and said, "That's not really up to you." Al called the key back to him and then handed it to Devon. "It is but I'm trying to trust you long enough for you to make something better for your life. Respect the discipline it takes to use it responsibly and fear the consequences of using it poorly. It is a useful but dangerous tool." Looking worried, Devon said, "Don't take it away. I'll-" Feeling a little older than usual, Al said, "Don't threaten me. There's no need. I won't take it away unless you keep overusing it til it makes you sick, you get yourself killed or you start giving it to other people. "If you don't like the plan I laid out for you, make your own and send me a phone in the mail to talk with you on. Otherwise, you know where to find me. Don't bring trouble to me or you WON'T know where to find me." After driving back to his house, he cast presto on the duffel money and went to get a computer. Two more days of work later and he had found a nice car after doing some online advertisement shopping. Over that time, Al realized that the trickle of essence didn't stop. He couldn't store much before it would spill out but that only happened a couple of times before the gold ring on his finger started sucking it up like a weak, starving animal that suddenly realized there was food nearby. With some experimenting, he found that he could use the ring to empty all his essence into and let the incoming trickle fill his pitiful tank back up. Every few times doing that, it would get just a tiny bit bigger. During one such event of ring feeding, he felt the smallest bit of something else in him go into the ring. For a split second, he could see inside the fairly large space inside the big ruby and realized that he could use the ring for something other than a large backup battery. The last day before his part-time work would resume in the records office, he managed to hold his feeble spirit sense long enough to check out the rest of the ring's several smaller compartments. There wasn't much but there were some interesting things. Three of the smaller spaces were piled with the various gifts White had received from 'his' kids over the years. Most of it was 'precious' sentimental junk that Al didn't have the heart to get rid of but a couple of Tait's and his daughter's turned out to be quite exciting finds. Among the eventually spoiled first successful attempts at making one thing or another there were a few scrolls that Tait had made and some magical potions his daughter had concocted that were still viable. It was strange rummaging through someone else's life and some of the things inside the ring were so private and personal, he had to fight a sense of growing shame for discovering them but he still couldn't get himself to throw them away. It felt wrong, like he was a keeper of something that belonged to someone else. Still, there were things among them that were practical and useful that he saw no harm in 'borrowing' til he was buried and lost within the pieces of the rightful owner. There was an 'ever sharp' blade that Lyra had commissioned a man named Thorrinson to create. Between Gan and his eldest, there were enough furs and leathers to open a store and get beaten to death by animal rights activists. From the practical and caring Halda, there was a travel bag full of useful things a person might need while out and about, including some carefully hidden emergency coin and a few small gems for selling. As for White himself, he was a maker and a giver. The only things he'd held onto and horded were his precious sentimental treasures. Were it not for Halda and his later forgetfulness, White wouldn't have even had the few coins and gems that he did. A silver and brass bound journal had many musings and a few magical hobby notes but towards the end, it had rubbings of Halda and Lyra's gravestones, causing a feeling of nostalgia and sadness to wash over Al momentarily. Within the main ruby, among a small scattering of dead or dying glows of spent eternium motes, there lay a large, thick leather bound tome. On it's cover was a tooled likeness of Droya standing beside a young Orison with an arm draped around his shoulders. Taking a peek inside, he saw that it was addressed to the 'whole' Orison and lost interest after realizing it was mostly a stitched together 'album' of sketched portraits and short biographies with Therridel's small but legible signature plastered around. Al filed all that away into the back of his mind. Whatever time was left to be his, in his own life, he wanted it to be about him. The feelings and connections of the rest could wait as far as he was concerned. In a vague recollection, he recognized how he had become the way he was and didn't so much regret it as wanted to relish what time he had left to be 'Al'. He figured he was owed that touch of selfishness and didn't feel bad about it in the least. After that bold inner declaration, he felt a sense of peace. Looking past the the ego and vanity of himself, he knew that he'd never really cease to exist within that 'whole' other person. He wondered if Red would eventually be able to find that same peace of if that one would rant and rail to the bitter end, unable to accept be simply a part of something else rather than a sovereign individual. Al was fairly certain that reality wouldn't let there be much of a choice. Their fractured existence was due to a spell. And no matter the power of a spell, it's purpose was clear and their splintered state was not a part of its workings. He just hoped that Red wouldn't end up doing something drastic or dangerous that could threaten the whole before Red's long good night. Over the next couple of weeks, not much changed. In his spare time, Al had become proficient enough with the pitiful magical gift he could use to spit out a nice variety of parlor trick level magic that felt more ability-like than actual spell. It put a smile on his face and it was fun without being dangerous. For an easily content person like Al, it was more than enough. Using a bit of the dwindled duffel fund, he managed to substitute together a recipe for the 'four days of hell' physical readjustment treatments that he spaced out much like the 'second' Neil experienced. With no magical ingredients to work with but a potion that could be repurposed, the effects weren't as dramatic but he still felt fairly cleansed, modestly more healthy and a little more receptive to the benefits of the light exercise he could coax himself into doing. As much as the driven Orison of Al's memories would scoff at the 'halfhearted' dedication, those who knew him would be awed by the 'monumental' effort Al was managing to squeeze out of himself. It didn't matter. First and foremost, Al was doing what made him feel happy and accomplished. It was a relatively forgotten sensation and he was savoring it like a rare treat. With his niece's birthday coming up and wanting a few more things himself, Al decided to take some time to research the best way to liquidate the coins and gems in the travel pack. It became a hassle of a project that cost him the rest of his savings on professional appraisals and creating a history for how he came into possession of them. As if to mock him, there wasn't any additional funds for quite some time due to legal red tape that had become far more astringent on things like gems and precious metal. "If I had known it would be this big of a pain in the a**, I probably would have just taken them to a larger pawn shop for the five to ten percent they would have given me," Al grumbled. Being in a modern world had many perks but the slow crushing weight of accountability and surveillance was stifling. He'd never been so aware of how little personal freedom and privacy was left until after going through the heinous process of unloading a few 'heirlooms' for a decent value. Annoyance endured, he had a nice chunk in his account again. After getting his old beater car fixed up a bit, he signed it over to his niece as a belated birthday present. Afterwards, her boyfriend bummed a few bucks off of him once they were done going out for dinner. Chuckling inwardly that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same, he went home. Upon returning home, an unpleasant surprise waited for him. Devon was sitting on his couch while he could hear the sounds of someone getting sick in the bathroom. The young man quickly gave him a break down. Seeing no reason to limit himself, Devon opened a tree service AND small home repair business. Deshawn proved to be a real asset since he was not only handyman capable but had a decent head for accounting. The only problem was, the people looking to get on and would be their staple crew, had issues. Just starting up with no reputation, it was hard enough to find high functioning addicts and people with only mildly dysfunctional home lives, much less clean and respectable crew. The brothers had a long term plan but for the present, had to take what they could get or it would never lift off the ground. Associating with that crowd had Deshawn backsliding. Catching it relatively early, or so he thought, Devon gave his older brother an ultimatum. He had to clean up and keep clean if he wanted to manage the business when Devon was ready for stage two. It helped that Deshawn really did WANT to be right. He'd missed a lot of his kids life and when Hunter had been shot, it shook his world up. "That doesn't explain why you're here," Al said in exasperation. Devon said, "Well, I slowed down on the, you know, things I do. Setting up the business and all that has left me kind of tapped. I was wondering if you could let my brother stay here for just a day or two til he gets over the shakes and stuff. He doesn't want the fam to see it and if he was at one of those motels, he'd be too... close... to the problem that got him like this." Al sighed. "Alright. Why not. Between the advice and this, we're even on your duffel surprise, though. So, don't come throwing that in my face later." The young man couldn't seem to get out of the place fast enough. Once Al saw what kind of mess Deshawn was in, he felt kind of duped. It wasn't light symptoms the older brother was having. And to top it off, they were dangerously mixed. "Alright, White. I hear you in there. You've been nice about letting me be me. I can do this one for you," Al muttered in annoyance as he got his herbal kit together for a detox his sick peer had never experienced before.
