Chapter 72: Drinking Acquaintances

—“The Great

In the evening at the Salty Pickle bar, Jack stood behind the counter, calmly cleaning a dirty glass while humming a tune. At the moment, he was the only one in the bar. It had been a slow day, with only a few customers who had stopped by earlier for drinks. This was expected, as mid-week traffic was always much slower than bustling weekends. Despite the quiet atmosphere, Jack enjoyed the peacefulness, taking the opportunity to ensure everything was spotless and ready for busier times.

Suddenly, the ring of the front doorbell broke the bar's quiet. Jack glanced up from his work to see a familiar figure dressed in a trench coat and fedora: Joe Striker. However, Jack's attention was immediately drawn to the black eye adorning Joe's face, a new addition since their last interaction.

Seeing Joe walk in, Jack dropped the glass he was cleaning, which shattered on the floor, breaking the calmness of the bar.

Jack: “Oh fuck NO! Get the fuck out of here, JOE!” he yelled.

Joe: “Calm down, Jack.”

Jack: “NO! Whatever you are here for, I don't want anything to do with you. I know that you pissed off the Nighthounds somehow, and I don’t need any of that smoke on me.”

Joe: “You heard about that?”

Jack: “Yeah! I also heard you managed to get fucking Cory killed.”

Joe: “I didn’t get anyone killed. It was fucking Cory’s stupidity that did him in.”

Jack: “I don’t care. I just know you’re involved somehow. So get the fuck out. I don’t have any info for you!”

Joe: “I’m not here for information. I’m here for a drink.”

Jack: “Go somewhere else for it!”

Joe: “I would, but I can’t. My usual drinking spot is gone. Maxwell retired and closed his bar down last week. And, I'm too tired to look around for another decent bar to drink at.”

Jack: “Maxwell retired and closed his bar last week? I didn’t hear about that.”

Joe: “How the fuck do you know about the bullshit with me and Cory’s death, but you don’t know about another bar closing that’s literally two streets away from here?” he said with a look of disbelief.

Jack: “I’m well-informed, but I don’t know everything happening in this city. I’m not the Nighthounds.”

Joe: “Whatever, just give me a drink, and then I’ll fuck off.”

Jack stared intensely at Joe for a second, trying to gauge the policeman's sincerity. The air between them grew tense as Jack tried to read Joe's intentions. Jack had a moment where he considered throwing a bottle at the police officer before he let out a long sigh.

Jack: “Fine. But, I swear to Light. If you’re trying to fish information out of me.”

Joe walked up to the bar and took a seat, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, slamming it onto the counter with a decisive thud.

Joe: “Whiskey on the rocks. And, give me the whole bottle.”

Jack: “Ah, fuck. This bullshit again,” he said, as he recalled a similar interaction he had with Father Crowley.

Joe: “Oh, you’re experiencing random bullshit twice, too?”

Jack: “I guess? You're the second person who’s asked for the whole bottle recently. But, what random bullshit did you experience?”

Joe: “A haunted house.”

Jack: “Haunted house? Actually… I don’t want to know.”

Joe: “Whatever. Give me my drink already so I can get out of here.”

Jack shook his head and grumbled under his breath before reaching under the counter for a glass. He retrieved a premade round ice cube from a nearby icebox and dropped it into the glass. Turning around, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the bar shelf and poured the amber liquid over the ice. With a resigned sigh, he handed the drink to Joe.

Joe took the glass and swirled the liquid around, his gaze fixed intently on the drink as if lost in thought. He took slow, deliberate sips, savoring the flavor with each mouthful. The atmosphere in the bar grew quieter as Joe immersed himself in the moment.

As the policeman savored his whiskey, Jack nodded with approval, appreciating the way Joe wasn't simply knocking back the liquid, but taking the time to savor and enjoy it.

While still holding the bottle of whiskey, Jack quickly placed the bottle under the bar table, out of Joe’s reach.

Joe: “Hey! I asked for the whole bottle.” Sёarᴄh the Nôvelƒire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Jack: “I have a policy of not letting my customers drink themselves into oblivion.”

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Joe: “Well, then you’re a pretty shitty barman then. Not giving a paying customer what he asked for.”

Jack: “Fuck you. I'm a great bartender. And, what people want and what they need are different. So, talk to me. Why are you like this?”

Joe: “Like what?”

Jack: “Why are you trying to drown your sorrows at the bottom of the bottle?”

Joe: “Pft, that’s why you're a terrible bartender. I’m not depressed. I’m tired. A lot of shit has happened recently to me, and it’s just catching up. You should know, since you seem to know I was in some pretty deep shit recently with the Nighthounds.”

Jack: “Only heard you were involved, not any of the details.”

Joe: “You seemed to have heard about the details of Cory's death. Which, you're not going to get pissed off at me about? Are you?”

Jack: “Cory was a fucking snitch for Rob before he betrayed the Skullcrushers. A few of my buddies who were trying to get out were killed because of him. So, I don’t actually give a fuck. I might have even tried to strangle that asshole myself back in the day.”

Joe: “Well, Cory didn’t actually betray the Skullcrusher. He was just pretending to embed himself into the Nighthounds before Rob disappeared.”

Jack: “Oooh. That’s why he’s dead. Yeah, the Nighthounds are huge into loyalty. They wouldn’t like that.”

Joe: “It was more than that, but whatever. Just give me the bottle already.”

Jack sighed with a deep resignation before reluctantly reaching for the bottle of whiskey. He pulled it out from beneath the counter and set it down in front of Joe.

Jack: “You know that you’re very shitty at making peace with other people.”

Joe: “You’re talking like I'm dying,” he said as he took the bottle of whiskey and poured a little more into his glass.

Jack: “Aren't you? You pissed off the Nighthounds. So, they're probably going to come after you.”

Joe: “Your information gathering is terrible. No, the Nighthounds are not coming after me. They…let me go.”

An awkward silence hung in the air after Joe's words, causing Jack to pause for a brief moment as he processed what had just been said.

Jack: “They let you go!” he shouted out in surprise. “But you’re a cop. Joe, they don't let people like you go. How in the burning abyss did you get out of that?”

Jack was all too familiar with the violent and ruthless nature of the Nighthounds. The Skullcrusher and Nighthounds, along with the police, had been at the center of the Bloody Days event all those years ago. As a former Skullcrusher gang member, Jack had witnessed firsthand the brutal tactics the Nighthounds employed against rival gang members and law enforcement. He had seen the carnage and fear they inflicted, leaving an indelible mark on this city. The Nighthounds' reputation for mercilessness was well-earned, and Jack knew better than most the lengths they would go to maintain their dominance.

Seeing Joe face the Nighthounds and walk away unscathed was remarkable to the former smuggler. In Jack's eyes, it was a testament to either Joe's resourcefulness or sheer luck.

Joe: “You tell me. I don’t know why.”

Jack: “But… actually no. I probably know too much already. Whatever it is, if it involves the Nighthounds, I don’t need to know about it.”

Joe: “Good. I wasn't going to tell you anything anyways.”

Joe vividly recalled that threat Yin had made, warning him not to reveal anything about what he had witnessed that day. The detective knew the danger of crossing the Nighthounds and was determined to tread carefully. When speaking with Jack, Joe was only willing to confirm or deny what Jack already suspected, avoiding adding any detailed information about the incident itself. The memory of being caught by the Nighthounds lingered in his mind, a stark reminder of how close he came to dying. He wouldn’t risk revealing more.

Jack: “Still, being able to walk away from the Nighthounds. You should be grateful instead of having this pissy attitude.”

Joe: “What pissy attitude? This is how I normally am.”

Jack: “Then why the whole bottle? Your little investigation with that druid thing not go well?”

Joe: “That, and now I'm stuck on a new investigation. Something that was forced onto me. I can’t work on my own shit until that is done.”

Jack: “Ah, ok.”

An awkward silence hung between the two men. Seeing that the senior detective wasn't going to say anything else, Jack grabbed a broom and began sweeping up the broken glass he had dropped when Joe first entered. The sound of the broom bristles against the floor and the clink of glass shards bumping into each other filled the bar.

Joe stared down at his drink, lost in thought. The amber liquid swirled gently in his glass, reflecting the dim lights of the bar. His mind seemed miles away, preoccupied with the weight of the investigation into Rob, and now the Jixi investigation. Jack, glancing up occasionally, could sense the tension and turmoil brewing within the detective, yet chose to respect his silence for now.

Eventually, it was Joe who was the first to break the silence.

Joe: “Say, you don’t happen to know anything about a guy named Jixi?”

Jack: “Oh, here it is. I knew you were here just to fish for information,” he angrily growled at Joe.

Joe: “You could just lie and say you don’t know anything. Heh, probably don’t know anything anyway.”

Jack started to rub his temple in an attempt to relieve some of the stress from the attitude Joe had on full display.

Jack: “Fuck me. I don't know why I'm doing this,” he muttered under his breath. “Who is this Jixi guy?”

Joe: “Never mind. Don’t worry about it.”

Jack: “Just tell me.”

Joe: “I’m really not fishing for information from you this time. I just wanted a drink.”

Jack: “Shut the fuck up and just tell me who you’re looking for. You're here now, so it's better I tell you what I know right away, rather than you coming back to bother me later.”

Joe let out a deep sigh.

Joe: “I’m sure you’ve heard about that necromancer teacher at the university, he was named Sorin. And, this guy had an assistant named Jixi. I’m sure I can put two and two together.”

Jack: “Huh? You're involved in that whole university mess. Is that the new investigation that got pushed onto you?”

Joe: “Yup.”

Jack: “Hmm, ok,” he said as he crossed his arms and went into deep thought. “ I can’t say I know anything about this guy”

Joe: “I know. When we helped clean your record all those years ago, you did a pretty good job going straight afterward. You stayed away from all that really shady or fucked up business.”

Jack: “Thank you? I guess? But, you make it sound like this Jixi guy was in deep with that whole necromancy thing.”

Joe: “He was. The whole investigation I’m doing is with a large team looking for this guy. He apparently slipped away after Sorin was discovered doing necromancy experiments on students.”

Jack: “Hmm, so he was smuggled out of the city.”

Joe: “That’s what I’m thinking.”

Jack: “And, that’s why you came to me.”

Joe: “No, again, It was just for a drink. I know you didn’t mess with cultists or necromancers, even when you were a smuggler. And, you definitely don’t mess with those kinds of people now that you're out of that world.”

Jack: “But, I was in that world. So, I know a lot of the ins and outs of it.”

Joe: “Are you trying to make me fish information out of you? Because it’s not going to work. I’m not getting kicked out of here until I’m done drinking. All the other investigation teams are having no luck finding any useful information. I already know that the only ones who could smuggle Jixi out of the city without leaving a trace are the Nighthounds. And if the Nighthounds are involved, this whole investigation is fucked.”

Joe suspected that the Nighthounds were somehow involved in the situation. Once that was confirmed, the entire investigation would likely be shut down. The Nighthounds' involvement would force the police to close the Sleuth-Hawk operation to avoid inciting another major conflict. This would end the cooperation between the university and the police, meaning Joe would have to revert to standard procedures for obtaining information from the university. This looming problem was a major source of his frustration.

Jack: “Maybe not. How about you go talk to Cindy.”

Joe: “Cindy? Why? She got out of smuggling along with you.”

Jack: “She is an info broker now.”

Joe: “Oh, like you.”

Jack: “Not like me. I don’t go out of my way to collect information. I just hear things through the grapevine. She purposely collects info and sells it on the side to people who don’t want to go through the Nighthounds to get it.”

Joe: “Why would I even bother if the Nighthounds are involved.”

Jack: “Because you aren't sure if they're involved. You’re just guessing. Cindy still knows about the other groups that could smuggle people out of the city who are not Nighthounds. And, she could probably confirm for you if the Nighthounds are involved.”

Joe: “Hmm, I guess I could at least confirm with her.”

Jack: “If you do, make sure to send Mike without you. She is less likely to put up with your bullshit than me.”

Joe: “Yeah, sure,” he said while continuing to sip away at his drink.

Joe continued to sip his drink for the next hour, lost in thought as the time slipped by. When he finally finished, he settled his tab with Jack, leaving a generous tip for not kicking him out like he half expected. He then made his way home, feeling the weight of the evening settle in.