"Piece of shit." Yasmine said, glowering at her father.

To her credit, that is what Ivanoff looked like. He had vomited on himself, fallen into the heap of rubbish that had occupied one corner of the room since Kristoff had arrived, and was now groaning unintelligibly. "Looks like we have no backup for the next deal." Kristof said, glaring. "Come on, We have to find somebody to sell this shit too."

Yasmine turned and glared at him. "No, you do. I have to make sure this dumbass doesn't waste more of our money on booze."

"Alone?" Kristoff asked incredulously. Never mind it being dangerous, neither of the two had trusted him enough to do anything without one of them breathing down his neck. "What, you trying to get me killed? I'm not gonna go deal to some drugged out shitheads without someone watching my back."

Yasmine took a step towards him, pulling her knife from her belt, leveling it at his neck. "You will do what I say." She growled. "And you are going to go sell that shit in your bag. Because, if you haven't noticed, the money we got today is going to replace what Ivanoff blew."

"So what, he blew it. We can wait to sell this crap. It's not like it's for anything useful." Kristoff said, rolling his eyes. Though, truth be told, it could very well be the fund to save the world. They didn't hide the fact that they were squirreling away silver, but had never said what for, even when he asked.

But, from the look on Yasmine's face, Kristoff could tell he made a mistake. "Go sell the mother fuckin' Jumilen, or Ivanoff is going to reopen his traffic in human remains. Starting with you." She ended that with the tip of her blade nearly digging into Kristoff's neck.

Kristoff had raised both of his hands in a placating gesture. "Yeah, going to go sell it." He said, eyes wide. "To replace what Ivanoff blew. Going now."

Yasmine did let him go, her glare following him out the door. Kristoff shook his head, turning his thoughts from the woman who had just chased him out to the drugs he had in his glorified pocket on a string.

But now he had to figure out who he was going to sell too. The Krav's were out, seeing as they had just killed four of their goons, leaving him with very few options.

The Yaka gang already hated them, most of the southern city refused to deal with any of Ivanoff's group. Which left one option. One terrible option. Selling to someone he absolutely hated.

Rock was a friend of Yasmine's, and she had used him as a source of money,  in return for the drug Kristoff currently had on him, of course. But he and Rock had never gotten along, nearly coming to blows several times, actually doing so once in a back alley, to be broken apart by Yasmine herself. After that, hey hadn't had dealings with Rock, or they had dealings with him that excluded Kristoff.

And now he was going to Rock.

"Fan-fuckin-tastic." Kristoff whispered to himself, walking along the streets that would lead to Rock's usual haunts.

"Look who's come knockin' at my door." Someone said from behind him, after more than a half hour of wandering.

Kristoff turned around, eyeing Rock.

And the two men he had brought with him.

Making a valiant attempt to remain businesslike, Kristoff spoke. "I have something you might like to buy."

"Yeah?" Rock asked, almost laughing. "And what is that?"

"Jumilen." Kristoff said calmly. "Sixty silver an ounce."

At this Rock laughed. "You idiot. You think you can waltz in here and make a deal?"

Kristoff put a hand on his sword, grimacing, remembering the reason he won a fight like this last time was because of a bow behind him.

"We need the money." Kristoff said, wincing, having given up a large amount of leverage to Rock, if, of course, they made it to price negotiations.

"Take him." Rock said, waving to the side. Kristoff reached for his sword, preparing to run.

But then there was a fourth man, behind him.

The sound of something being swung.

The dull thunk of wood on bone

And then black.