by Kristogar Velo
London:
At a neighborhood pub, one where nobody visited unless they had certain business, a man walked in, overcoat hanging down to just above his feet, a fedora keeping his face in darkness. A bit cliched, but Marv Velo wasn't one to let a faux pas dictate his wardrobe. He casually strolled to an unoccupied booth, with his back to an occupant in the neighboring booth.
"Benedict Arnold, I presume?" he said aloud. The man in the next booth immediately turned around as if a code word had been said.
"Oh, jay-sis, Marvin, what've I done now?" he asked in a distinctly American accent while standing up.
"I've asked you not to call me that," Velo replied.
"No, seriously, what do you want?" Benedict inquired as he sat down across from Velo.
"Crime in this city has dropped considerably and inexplicably in a very short period of time. Some heavy hitters have been taken down without repercussions."
"Hey, I had nothin' to do with any of that! I didn't kill--" Benedict began in his defense.
"I didn't think you did. Everybody knows you'd be too gutless." Velo remained deadpan even though he was amused with his insult. "But somebody has had their hand in all this, and I'm pretty sure I know who that somebody is. I'd like to discuss it with you, if you would tell me about events you remember in recent weeks. You may not realize it, but--"
Benedict interrupted him. "Oh, I get it. It's another case where I know more than I realize? Where I tell you things I saw, and you piece 'em together, right? Hey, we've done this before."
"Good, I was hoping you'd remember. You also should remember that I don't like dank pubs..."
"Gotcha. I can lead the way."
"I wouldn't want you where I couldn't see you," Velo said, displaying his wit again. Benedict dropped a couple pounds for his tab, and the two were walking out, when a group of men stepped in front of them. The biggest one spoke.
"We got a prize for you, Benedict, if you'd come outside with us right now."
Marv Velo sighed and glanced at Benedict. "Gambling debts?" After a slight nod for a response, he turned to the group. "Gentlemen, this man's business is with me today. You'll have to pay him a visit another time." Had his hat not obscured his features, the men probably would've listened, but instead they were feeling a bit headstrong.
"Bugger off. This git's coming with us," the big one said again. When Velo didn't back down, the man took a swing. Velo ducked it with ease and fired two lightning quick rights to the face, busting the man's nose but with such precision that it wouldn't cause any permanent damage.
One of the men quickly realized what they were up against. "Bollocks, it's Velo," he exclaimed, and instinctively the entire group took a step back before a couple drew out small weapons. "Put your shit away, tossers," one ordered, "we're not fighting Velo today. Benedict, this isn't over."
"Gentlemen," Kristogar began, "I assure you Benedict will pay everything he owes you with a ten-percent interest. You have my word, and you know what that's worth." The group of men seemed genuinely convinced as well as pleased, and walked out of the pub, one treating his nose.
Benedict turned to thank Velo, but another man desperately ran up to them. "Velo? As in Marv Velo?" he asked.
"The same," Velo said, wary of a stranger knowing his identity.
"Thank God!" the man said. "The dreamstalker, he's been haunting me for weeks now. He wants to know where you are. Now that I found you, I hope he buggers off and leaves me alone."
"Dreamstalker?" Benedict was confused.
"The Gold Baron," Kristogar answered knowingly. "Benedict, it seems I may not need your eyewitness accounts after all."