We Lease The Kraken! - A LitRPG Pet Shop System Story.

Jonny's hesitation stretched, tension thickening the air until even the puppies' yips faded into an uneasy hush. Every heartbeat hammered in Jeremiah's chest, his hard-won composure balanced precariously atop the new, fractured sharpness of his senses. He felt his muscles coil, ready for the moment the standoff shattered.

Niko broke first, his gaze darting between the two men. He cleared his throat and edged forward, palms raised in a show of peace. "C'mon, Jonny," he said, mustering a smile that never reached his eyes. "No point starting something here. Bossman's made his call. We can swing back next time. Place'll still be here, right?" His voice was light, forced, the last word straining somewhere between joke and uncertainty.

Markus wasn't having it. The big man rolled his shoulders, knuckles popping as he flexed his hands, the sound abrupt in the quiet. "We don't gotta take that, Jonny," he rumbled, voice rolling through the shop like distant thunder. "It's four of us, one of him. We take what we want and go."

Mouse shot Markus a glare sharp enough to cut. "Speak for yourself, Markus. Anybody with eyes can see our 'friend' here's Gifted." His tone was clipped, eyes never leaving Jeremiah. "You'd just get in Jonny's way." He jerked his chin toward Jeremiah, then added, low and fast, "Besides, since when did we start smashing up shops in broad daylight? I'm not dragging your sorry ass out of lockup."

He drifted closer to Jonny, dropping his voice. "Let's just call it, yeah?" Mouse forced a crooked grin, the edge in his posture betraying nerves. His fingers twitched restlessly — itching for a smoke, or something to throw — but he shoved them deep in his pockets.

For a breath, Jonny teetered between pride and calculation, his jaw flexing as he weighed the moment. Fury flickered behind his eyes, but something steadier won out. He spat a curse, low and bitter, then straightened, letting his foot drop from its poised threat.

"Fine. We're leaving," he said, voice pitched so even the dogs felt the shift. "This place ain't worth the headache today." With a curt wave, he signaled his crew. "Let's go, boys."

Markus let out a frustrated grunt, but Jonny's order held. Mouse shot Jeremiah an apologetic shrug before slipping out. Niko, cheeks full of pilfered pastry, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and trailed after them. Jonny lingered on the threshold, a hard, searching look pinned on Jeremiah.

Just as the group crossed the threshold, Jeremiah called out, "Wait."

Jonny paused, one boot on the lintel, skepticism flaring across his face. "What now? Want me to sweep up before I go?"

Ignoring the sarcasm, Jeremiah moved beside the display case, his motions calm and unhurried. The faint click of the lock echoed in the quiet shop as he knelt, hands steady even as his nerves still hummed with the residue of adrenaline, quelled only by his uniform. He sifted through the array of talismans until his fingers closed around a single card: the Ten-tacles talisman. Its weathered parchment edge curled like an autumn leaf, and even in the late afternoon light, the ink shimmered with a secret gleam.

He rose and held the talisman between two fingers. For a heartbeat, he met Jonny's gaze. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he sent the talisman spinning through the air.

Jonny's hand snapped out, catching the card with practiced reflexes.

"Consider it a free sample," Jeremiah said, his voice clear and even, carrying easily to the far corners of the shop. "And Jonny?" A sliver of a smile tugged at his lips, cool and unbothered. "Do come again."

Jonny turned it over, suspicion etching lines deep across his face, then shot Jeremiah a long, assessing look. "What's the catch?" he asked, voice pitched low with challenge.

Jeremiah only smiled, eyes giving nothing away.

After a beat, Jonny clicked his tongue and tucked the talisman into his jacket, the motion quick and possessive. His gaze lingered on Jeremiah — a silent promise that this was far from over — then, without another word, he turned and strode out into the gold-washed street, his crew trailing behind like shadows peeling from the walls. The bell above the door gave a weary jangle and then stilled, leaving the shop in a hush heavy with expectation.

Jeremiah stood motionless for a long moment, his body still buzzing with the tangled aftershocks of instinct and adrenaline, every sense taut and attuned to the silence that followed. He didn't move until he was certain Jonny and his men had faded into the deeper shade beyond Market Street.

A flutter of blue at his ear was the only warning before Mero materialized on his shoulder, all iridescent wings and sly, watchful curiosity. "Well, that was somethin'," Mero murmured, his eyes glinting with wry amusement. "Didn't have ya pegged for the generous type. After all that racket, ya still gave them what they wanted? And for free? Mind telling me what's running through that head of yers?"

Jeremiah snorted, but the wary tension in his eyes lingered. "Jonny's not stupid. He already suspects there's a connection between the shop and the break-in at his place last week. Guys like that — they don't know how to take 'no' for an answer. Push too hard and they'll come back with a crowbar, or worse."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Mero tilted his head, frowning, wings giving a restless flick. "So, you think handing him a talisman will throw him off your trail? Sounds a bit backwards, kid."

Jeremiah's lips twitched — not quite a smile, but close. "Once he sees what the talisman can really do, it'll give him something to chew on," Jeremiah said, voice low and careful. "If I stonewalled him totally, it make it look like I'm trying to hide something, and all he's left with is a grudge and a pile of questions. This way, he might talk himself into believing it was just another customer with a clever trick, not us."

Mero's wings fluttered, more thoughtful now, his gaze flickering to the sunlit windows. "That's a risky move. If he checks the timing, connects the dots, he might start asking the wrong questions."

Jeremiah nodded, his voice a quiet anchor in the growing dusk. "I know. But I can't plug every leak. Right now, this is the best card I've got. I'll handle the fallout when it lands."

Mero exhaled, sinking deeper onto Jeremiah's shoulder, the lines of his face softening with reluctant respect. "You're getting too good at this, shopkeep," he muttered. "But sooner or later, it won't be street toughs pounding on your door."

Jeremiah watched the shadows lengthen across the shop floor, a steady, wry smile curving his lips. "Then I'd better be ready when that time comes."

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Jonny's boot connected with the battered trashcan, sending it careening down the cracked alley with a metallic crash that scattered a pair of startled pigeons. The can rattled off a cinderblock wall, bounced once, and landed in a puddle. His breath steamed in the shade, a snarl curling his lips as he paced, fingers digging deep into his jacket pockets. Markus, Mouse, and Niko lingered a few meters back, hesitant to approach while Jonny's temper still simmered.

Mouse tilted his head, glancing back the way they'd come, the golden afternoon already fading from the narrow slice of sky above. "So that was Jeremiah Bridge?" His tone was skeptical, but edged with the sort of curiosity that always got him in trouble. "Nic mentioned she'd run into him, but I figured he was just another Central brat. Didn't expect him to show up down here, let alone running that fancy new shop everyone's gossiping about."

Markus folded his thick arms across his chest, muscles bulging under the sleeves of his knockoff jacket. "Didn't look so tough to me," he grunted, eyeing the alley's litter with contempt. "Just a kid with a nice vest and a bigger attitude. Could've taken him if you gave me half a minute."

Niko, ever the scavenger, hunched his shoulders and jerked a thumb over his back toward the Crossroads. "You see all the stuff in that place? I've never seen half those brands outside Central. Where's he getting that kind of inventory? We're not talking charity drop-offs or market leftovers."

Markus made a dismissive noise. "Obvious, isn't it? Blew through everything Machina Redux left him, just to make the place look pretty. That's what happens when you give a nobody the keys to a kingdom." He spat in the gutter, then jerked his chin toward the distant skyline. "As for why he's even here… come on. It's not like it's a mystery. His sister always had a thing for the Outskirts, especially the Crossroads, especially after the Big Red incident. She nearly got herself killed, but after that, everyone down here treated her like she walked on water. Bet Jeremiah figures he can use that leftover goodwill. Central's already dragging her name through the dirt, so why not run to the only place left?"

Mouse shot Markus a sharp elbow to the ribs. "Keep it down, idiot. You know Jonny liked Sarah."

Markus sneered, brushing off the jab with a look of false bravado. "Yeah, yeah. Forgot our fearless leader had a crush on the bitc—"

Jonny's head jerked up, his eyes gone cold and flat, cutting through Markus with a glare that promised violence. The alley seemed to shrink, tension pressing in on all sides as the other three froze. Mouse's lips clamped shut. Niko's hands tightened on the strap of his bag. Markus's jaw worked, but whatever words he'd been ready to spit out shriveled in his throat.

For a moment, nothing moved but Jonny's eyes, burning with unspoken fury. The silence throbbed, heavy as a threat.

Then Jonny looked away, the line of his jaw flexing as he ground his teeth together. He turned his back on Markus and stared down the length of the alley, letting the cold slide off his shoulders. The three let out a collective breath, Mouse rubbing at his arm where he'd elbowed Markus, Niko suddenly fascinated by a crack in the pavement.

Mouse tried to sound casual, but his voice was a shade too light. "So… what now? Gresham wanted us to dig up something useful. All we did was piss off the new bossman and get shown the door. Not exactly a haul."

Jonny's mouth quirked into a slow, dangerous smirk. He fished in his jacket and produced the talisman, holding it up so it caught the last angle of sunlight. The parchment's edges curled between his fingers, ink glimmering faintly with a promise of secrets. Jonny turned it over once, twice, studying the intricate calligrams and the almost oily sheen that danced over its surface.

"We got more than you think," Jonny said, voice low and edged with satisfaction. "Bridge just handed this over like it was nothing. More than that, you saw how he moved in there. He's Gifted."

Mouse squinted, suspicion and calculation warring in his expression. "That doesn't make any sense. I heard how Sarah used to talk about him. She never mentioned anything about him being Gifted. What does that mean? Did he trigger recently?"

Markus sneered. "Figures some spoiled Central brat has all the luck…"

Jonny shook his head, dark hair flopping into his eyes. "No. He doesn't… smell like a Deviant. Cores 'resonate' with each other. I didn't feel anything like that from him."

Mouse raised an eyebrow. "What then?"

Jonny smirked and raised the talisman again.

"Magic then?" Mouse asked.

Jonny shrugged. "Or something like that."

Mouse nodded. "I guess that would make some sense. Someone like Sarah could have gotten him all kinds of tutors and resources."

Markus stared at the talisman with open greed. "What do we do with the talisman? Pawn it?"

Jonny's smirk widened, all teeth. "No. We bring it to Gresham. I'm sure he'll be more than interested in this, if it can actually do what Bridge claims it can."

Niko, quieter now, shuffled his feet. "You really think that'll be enough for Gresham to put in a good word for us?"

Jonny's eyes narrowed. "If its not, then I have… other plans to show the Oddfather just what I'm capable of."

For a long moment, Jonny stared at the talisman, feeling the strange, subtle energy that thrummed beneath the ink — power, promise, and danger all wound tight. He let the alley's chill settle into his bones, and smiled.

"C'mon, boys," he said, already turning away. "Let's go find Gresham, and then we can see just what our new 'friend' has given us."

The others fell into step behind him, leaving the battered trashcan and the afternoon's bitterness behind. Above them, the sky burned the color of old copper, and somewhere in the Crossroads, the gears of something larger began to turn.