We’d like to re-introduce you to Wellstone City, our flagship setting. For some of you, you’re finding us for the first time, and others have been here with us since day one. No matter if this is your first visit or your hundredth, we’d like to bring you back to Wellstone, our crime/noir modern setting set on an island just off the coasts of Louisiana and Texas. As a little present to welcome you to Wellstone, or welcome you back, we’re knocking 20% off our PDF price and the book/PDF bundle. Just hit the link at the end of the post and get ready to get back into the action!
Wellstone City. The Jewel of the Carribbean. City of Opportunity. What complete crap.
It’s been six weeks since I moved here from Iowa. I moved into the Warrens because rent was cheap and I didn’t have anything worth stealing. For six weeks I’ve been trying to find work, trying to find a better apartment; I’ve been trying to start my life over and it’s not working quite the way I’d hoped.
I left the temp service yesterday, nothing for me yet, but they told me to check back in tomorrow. They said they have some good leads. Yeah, I’ll come back in tomorrow. It’s only a 3 mile walk through dangerous streets in 100 degree heat and humidity so thick you can’t tell if it’s haze or smog or both. So yeah, I’ll be back tomorrow. At least, that was the plan.
I was waiting at the light at 56th and Exodus and this guy bumped into me. I apologized. He stopped and looked at me and said, “What did you say to me?” At least I think that’s what he said, his Creole accent was so thick I couldn’t understand half of the words.
“I said ‘Pardon me,'” I repeated. He nodded and smiled. He asked if I was looking for work. I didn’t even hesitate and said yes. He gave me a card that had this address and a time on it.
Now I’m standing in front of this address and it has to be a joke. The building looks like an old bank with columns in front and stairs leading up into it. I haven’t even seen buildings like this since moving here. The doorman out front didn’t acknowledge me until I was ten feet away. By then I could see the body armor he was wearing. By then I could see the gun on his hip barely concealed by his jacket.
He asked me if I had an appointment when I was close, holding out his hand to tell me to stop. When an armed man in body armor tells me to stop; I stop.
I told him I had a card with a time but no name.
He said, “Well, that means you have an appointment.” He buzzed me in and I walked through the doors.
The Secretary looks up, she’s cute as hell, and her eyes give me a once-over.
“Third floor,” she said and looked back down to her work.
Cameras are everywhere. It makes me wonder how many I don’t see.
What the hell did I get myself into.
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