The nights in Ten-Guno were cold. The macabre silence of a lonely street echoed strongly as Karl walked at a measured pace, his target being the short man.
Strategically, Karl considered his next move.
'His pace cannot be slow, especially leaving at this hour. He surely took a carriage to his destination. It would be better to locate his companions. They cannot have gone far as long as they left after him.'
That was right. Karl was pursuing the short man. His quick actions were the result of experience. He had rapidly discovered that the man was cheating with the help of several accomplices. Legally, if the casino discovered that a player or group was cheating, they would be permanently banned from ever returning.
But if they were not caught in the act, there was obviously nothing that could be done. That was where Karl entered the picture. He had become a sort of detective. Of course, it was risky, as his features were easily recognizable by anyone who was not a fool.
He positioned himself in an alley outside the casino near its exit.
'If I'm not mistaken, they'll come out soon and regroup among themselves to divide the winnings. That's when I can catch them all, and with luck, I'll get information about other idiots doing the same thing.'
The work was exhausting because the desired result was not always achieved, especially since he was only one man. The casino did not pay him for pursuing them, but it was always an extra commission he earned for himself.
He pulled a coin from his pocket and slowly began flipping it.
Soon, the possible accomplices exited the casino, each taking a different route. He stopped his hand and looked at the coin.
Tails.
It indicated following the one furthest away.
'Let's see what this gives us.'
In the Commercial District where they were located, there were only two ways to reach one's destination: rent a carriage, usually priced for only spendthrifts or those of middle-to-upper social class, or walk through the surrounding alleys, risking an unfortunate encounter.
Since the accomplices had not won anything, they would probably choose the second option.
That way, he could find the nest and dismantle it completely. He had been tracking their trail for several weeks now, and soon he would find the leader behind the operation.
'Pepe will have to become a bootlicker soon, I think. These gangsters will not tolerate failure under their noses.'
With that in mind, he tracked the furthest one, choosing to follow him as slowly as possible without losing sight of him.
The jurisdiction of this section of the Commercial District silently belonged to the Zeno Vero mafia. Making such moves against a group like them was not considered courteous.
Though, of course, courtesy was tedious for dogs.
The man walked hurriedly out of the district, approaching the Naples neighborhood, a rather dead area of the city overall. Inside an old barn, several individuals gathered beneath the cover of night.
One stepped forward and spoke.
"So then, how much did we make? Gather everything up. Soon we'll finish our run through this area and have to disappear for a while. Lately I've felt like someone's following us."
Another responded arrogantly.
"I liked this area. There wasn't much surveillance, and apparently the local mafia's reputation is only for appearances."
"It's always bad to bet against ourselves, remember that. By the way, Kevin, you're a little late," he said while looking toward the entrance where the last accomplice entered.
Kevin finished adjusting the door to their hideout and greeted the others.
"Don't worry. I made a few rounds through the bar and got some bottles for everyone. We're close to our goal now, aren't we?"
As he spoke, he pulled several glasses and whiskey bottles from a bag. A short man eagerly approached.
"Hehe, how considerate."
He grabbed his glass and quickly poured himself a drink.
"With this toast, I want to honor my dear comrades. Soon we'll be able to begin preparations to crush those damned capitalists."
The expressions of each man darkened slightly. All of them had been affected in some way by the excessive exploitation of some horrific factory, where rather than working for themselves they had seemed more like automated machines.
Brothers, friends, and even close companions had been among those affected by the incident that killed several workers under the Ferrero conglomerate, the leading producer of candies, delicacies, and wholesale desserts.
Usually, along the production line, workers intentionally sampled a bit of the product to determine whether it was at least usable. If it was visibly rotten or close to spoiling, they could either throw it away directly or give it to the workers. It was not ideal, but it saved the expense of emptying and cleaning everything when they could simply use their own laborers instead.
The conditions between employee and employer were extremely uneven, almost like noble and peasant, nearly slavery in every sense, except the slaves sustained themselves and paid for their own upkeep.
"Comrades, the deaths of our loved ones will not go unpunished under any circumstances. Let us toast to ourselves and our noble cause. !OVERTHROW THE STRONG; DEFEND THE OPPRESSED! CHEERS!"
They raised their glasses in unison. They were men, and therefore individuals. Therefore, they were weak, and among the weak, only unity was strength.
They spoke about their progress toward their objectives. The short man and two accomplices were responsible for gathering money by regularly cheating in casinos. They rotated locations from time to time, though they had grown somewhat attached to their current one. The short man commented to Kevin:
"That one-eyed old man has been our honeymoon. What do you think? We could go there from time to time to make our nights worthwhile. Join me."
Kevin observed Lucas Rossi: bronze skin, a top hat, and far too much energy packed into a small body. He weighed his options.
"That old man gives me the creeps when he smiles while dealing cards, but only that. Why not? Sure, I'll do it."
He accepted without much deliberation. His own role had gone as smoothly as butter.
Mateo Esposito, their other card-playing companion, nodded as well. It was simple enough.
Soon they settled down for a while.
Outside the barn, listening carefully with sharpened hearing, Karl listened attentively from approximately the moment they had begun shouting their demands into the night air.
He was an experienced fisherman, and his prey had bitten hard onto the hook.