This was going to take some doing. Unlike most of his other contacts, Colinaude could not count on the so-called Ratbeard to be found routinely. He had two hours to do it, and a surprisingly large chunk of Traverse to search. The rodent district, as opposed to a conventional slum, was still trying to fool itself into thinking it had some hope. It was located around the business district, almost as an enveloper, a buffer zone between prosperous and otherwise. It was home to those trying to make it both legitimately and the other way. As such, it was the perfect home for someone like Cad, and a particularly vigorous door-to-door salesman combing the available waters like a shark, looking for blood, dollar signs, or, ideally, both. Yes, Ratbeard was ruthless.
He claimed that’s just the way it had to be. He also claimed that if he wasn’t constantly in motion, his profit margin was going to irrevocably shift away from him, which meant he spent virtually every waking moment plying his craft in some way or another, culling investors, customers, and sympathetic souls who would make sure his good name, which surprisingly was not Ratbeard in these circles, was always out and about, a companion figure on the road to success. That he worked a similar day to Colinaude was a mere coincidence. In no way was their work the same.
Colinaude hoped so, anyway. Just the thought of Ratbeard sent chills down his spine. As did this district. There was plenty of room for the Eidolon to get around, and virtually no chance of anyone ever seeing him, which made his routine all the more easier. But slinking through here always made him feel dirty, as if to make his way through Colinaude was making a thousands deals with a thousand demons for the necessary finesse, as if his natural ability wasn’t good enough and he’d need additional support from suddenly unseemly shadows. This was the only time, in fact, that he did not consider shadows his ally. That they, and everything else here, seemed crafted especially to his needs was an indication to him that something was unnatural. Himself?
No, not himself. But it was unsettling. There was a teeming mass here that cried for attention, a crossroads of lassitude that declared each and every thing within as existing in a sort of limbo, a protomorphic state just outside good and evil. That was why it was such a favored destination for evil to come and hatch its plans, and for good to try and intercept. All around the extremes was waiting to call sides, and the intruders were constantly aware that they were being asked for their credentials. Colinaude had no such interest. The rodent district was a get-in-and-get-out affair, with preferably all possible speed.
Yet he was here now, interminably grounded in search of Ratbeard, and he could feel the stench clinging to him. From place to place, he could feel himself becoming an object of self-ridicule, points in between becoming instances of self-analysis. He was always left wanting, until he reached the next point, where relief could be found, but it was a damning relief. He began to seek out faces, probe them for understanding, and if he found any his agony would only intensify. He wanted someone to acknowledge him, so far had his madness progressed.
Out, he must get out, now, while there was still hope. He was suffocating. It was the queerest sensation, to inhabit this place and become bombarded with such a depravity. It was automatic, an alienation by instinct, expect the alienation came from a feeling of disturbing welcome. More than any place else, this was the one arena Colinaude felt needed the most work, yet he had no idea where to begin. Perhaps overwhelmed was the best way to describe it.
He wasn’t having any luck. How do you find someone like Ratbeard? There was no rhyme or reason to his wanderings. He drifted from opportunity to opportunity, like a vagabond in search of reason, of comfort, of security. Ratbeard had all of these, and it was in the effort to preserve them he forged on the path against them. Was this truly what Colinaude himself was doing? Was this the ultimate source of his discontent? It was an impossible thought.
He was, meanwhile, keenly aware that he was on the right trail. It was almost like a smell, like a sense of the right direction. He was on to Ratbeard, as if by instinct. He didn’t know where he was going, but he was getting there all the same. So he continued on. Somehow, realizing this made him look at his surroundings differently. They were becoming less latently hostile, if not exactly benevolent, which is what they strove for. But they remained interminable, which left Colinaude feeling uneasy. As if in a haze, and as though he had become automated, he moved as if without his own will. Something was driving him.
Something was also following him. This he found himself gradually becoming aware of, not by any physical indication by though a sort of forced intuition. Whatever it was, it was as if it wanted him to know it was there. The paranoia even Colinaude felt would have called it an existential menace. He’d begun the day knowing Neville was there, then learned Neville was in more places than he’d thought or known, and now as he sought a man who knew more of Neville there was this perception that informed Colinaude of a greater presence.
This meant that there was going to be more than Vinny Vegas set upon him, much as he’d feared, and this place was among the most dangerous for him to be in. Yet he had two reasons to remain, and only one to leave. Colinaude was also not going to be intimidated away. The phantom was either to going to show its face or remain in the ether. The trouble was, each of Colinaude’s goals here could not stand to be scrutinized by this presence. And the result of this was that he would need to try harder, to fight against the contrariness and dig still further into the district. He couldn’t confront Ratbeard as Colinaude, however. That was one corner he could not turn to. He would have to remain the Eidolon.
What he could do is entrench himself. He would make Ratbeard come to him, and concentrate on drawing out instead the interloping menace. Colinaude chose a car lot. There were many of those available, too, but he chose the particularly spacious lot Mad Jack’s had available. He found he could walk openly through this sea. Those driving by, or the dealers sitting with offers here and there, would not see a super hero, but rather a prospective buyer making his way around the possibilities. In some situations, you were exactly what was expected of you. This was one of them.
Colinaude did not look at a single sticker price, inside a single cabin, or stake a single favorite. He walked past every car like he was walking through grass. He was walking through an automobile plane, a glimmering prairie. He sank further in. Not soon enough, he was in the deep end, and could finally plant himself. He opened a door and sat himself in one of the prospects. Someone else’s prospect, at least. Now he waited.
There was one possibility he was thinking of turning to if it proved necessary. Colinaude was not foolish enough to think that himself and a few contacts were going to settle this business by themselves. He could turn to any number of fellow heroes, some of whom he had favorable impressions with. The trouble was, he didn’t have any convenient way to track them down. There was no heroic fraternity, no official assembly at all. If there was a secret handshake he didn’t know it. There was certainly no hotline. If he were to find one, it would be the same process he was going through now to meet with Ratbeard. He had the conference with Godsend coming up, but he knew he wasn’t going to find any help there, and none by connection, either. Godsend was not a team player any more than the Eidolon was, which was another of those coincidences that might suggest to those looking for kinship points a frivolous means to repair a fractured relationship.
That Colinaude had ever worked hand-in-hand with Godsend was still a matter of deep regret for him. They hadn’t parted on bad terms, but rather out of a growing disconnect, mostly on Colinaude’s side, that made it abundantly clear they couldn’t last much longer without hitting the wall anyway. This did not stop Godsend from trying to mend the rift at every opportunity, which he took as every chance he personally had. Colinaude found he quickly had a new reason to give Godsend a lukewarm shoulder when it became clear how irritating this could be.
But that was not the present concern. He watched as actual customers milled about. They had less compelling reasons to be here, yet their aims were still meaningful to themselves. As chance would have it, there seemed to be some sort of celebration today at Mad Jack’s. There was entertainment filling in, perhaps for a noon climax. Among the incoming set was a batch of costumed hosts. The theme was super heroes. The costumes were generally of high quality. Colinaude admired the work done on the Eidolon. With the usual decorations already up, he had assumed this was just another day at the dealership, but that he took a closer look, he saw that there was an additional flare. He took the opportunity to look out for Ratbeard, who would no doubt be attracted to such an event. It was like expecting a fly to visit a light.
It wasn’t going to be long now, Colinaude noted. He had an hour to go before noon, and he imagined that would be plenty of time.
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