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He’s sitting in a bar in one of the lower levels, a place he finds himself more often than not these days. The bar is shady enough to be half-empty at all times, which is why he prefers it; big crowds can easily get overwhelming. It’s a good place to hide away.
Oedipus knows he should save up the small income he earns instead of drinking it away if he’s ever going to get off this planet, but it’s not like he’s earning enough to make a difference anyways. It’s been years since the scandal but the public hasn’t forgotten yet, so he’s resigned to working small jobs for various criminal gangs and that doesn’t pay well.
Besides, if he’s ever going to escape he needs something big. He needs a spaceship of his own and those aren’t cheap, especially since he’s no longer a friend of the Olympians and has to buy it illegally. Saving up scraps will get him nowhere, he’s tried that for a long time now and he’s barely got a fraction of the amount he needs. If only he knew how to find the big job. Solving coding problems and healing wounds for local criminals will get him nowhere.
Once upon a time this would not be a problem. He used to be rich and famous, praised by everyone. He could probably have bought a spaceship if he’d wanted to, he was on good enough terms with the Olympians and rich enough to afford it. But he didn’t have a reason to leave the planet back then, did he? It was a short window of time between the cure and the scandal, but in that short amount of time he had everything he could ever have wanted. The cure helped so many people and he was at peace for once.
All that money had gone to Jocasta in the “divorce”. It hadn’t even been a real divorce, Oedipus just fled as far as he could as fast as he could. Of course, the press still managed to find him and he’d been forced to flee further and further down. The shadier the area the less people cared about upper class drama, at least in theory. In reality, he’s still hiding from the cameras so many years later.
A glass is set down on the table in front of him with a clink. It smells strongly of alcohol, maybe whiskey? He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even hear the other approach.
“For you Sir” Whoever it is sounds young and a little nervous. It’s probably a bartender or a waiter, maybe newly hired. For clarity’s sake, he decides to think of them as the bartender.
“I didn’t order anything” Oedipus grimaces a little at the sound of his own voice. It’s gravelly, like he hasn’t slept in several days which is probably true. He doesn’t keep track of sleep anymore.
“The gentleman over there ordered it for you, said it was a peace offering” The bartender presumably gestures towards another patron, which is utterly unhelpful.
That leaves the question of who this ‘gentleman’ is. None of his usual contacts are the type of people who would buy him a drink from afar, they’d rather approach him themselves. And it’s not like he’s young and good-looking anymore so he doubts anyone would do it in a flirty way. Besides, this isn’t the kind of bar where people flirt.
“Did he give you any name? I can’t see if you’re gesturing at someone.” Oedipus lifts his glasses a little, just enough to give the young bartender a glimpse of the data sockets behind. It’s the easiest way of explaining without having to explain.
“I’m so sorry Sir.” They stumble slightly over their words, clearly uncomfortable with their mistake. Oedipus doesn’t care much either way, he just wants an answer to the question so he gestures for them to go on.
“No, he just asked me to give you the drink as a peace offering.”
Oedipus scoffs, that’s not helpful at all. He needs to know who gave it to him before daring to drink, it could easily be poisoned. There are way too many people who might want to kill him and he can’t die now, not when there’s still hope for him to escape. No matter how thin that sliver of hope is. There’s also the fact he’s growing more curious about the mysterious drink-buyer by the second, he needs to talk to this man.
“Tell him that he can come over here himself if he wants to talk instead of buying me drinks by proxy.” He pushes the glass away from himself and leans back into the wall to indicate that the conversation is over. The bartender murmurs something and he can hear their steps receding and disappearing into the background noise of the bar. Hopefully they’re off to speak with the mysterious man. Oedipus is left to his quiet brooding, rubbing a thumb over the smooth handle of his folded-up cane.
A while later there are footsteps approaching the small corner booth where he’s sitting. Someone sits down across from him and the smell of cigar smoke wafts over the table, probably the mystery man then. Oedipus waits for him to make the first move.
“Oedipus, I presume?” The man speaks with a posh accent, altogether unsuited to the shady bar they’re in. That doesn’t have to mean anything though, his own accent is also posher than most would expect from someone hiding away in the sublevels. He can’t be the only one in the City with rotten luck. This man doesn’t seem as broken though, but he can’t put his finger on exactly why. Oedipus keeps his guard up.
“I’m sorry, have we met before? If so I must’ve forgotten your name.” Oedipus keeps his tone as neutral and polite as possible.
The man laughs at this, a low chuckle. “I can’t imagine we have. My name is Daedalus, you may have heard of me”
Daedalus. Oedipus has as a matter of fact heard lots of rumours about the man. There’s no telling if the man in front of him is actually telling the truth, or if the rumours are true, but if so it would mean nothing good for him. He can’t think of a reason an alleged Olympian might try to find him again, hadn’t they already humiliated him enough? Or maybe there’s another reason for the bogeyman of the City to search for him, but it’s probably bad.
There is an edge to his voice when he answers. “That I have. What brings you here then, Daedalus?”
“No need to sound so harsh, I’m actually here to offer you a job.”
“Yeah right, out of everyone in the city you want to hire me. I’m not buying it” Oedipus drops the mask of fake politeness. There’s no way an upstanding man like Daedalus, however shady he is, wants to hire a disgraced doctor who caused a scandal that rocked the City to its foundations. Not for a legitimate job at least.
“That’s where you’re wrong, I’m dead serious. If you’re not interested I could always find someone else to do it, but I thought you might be interested in the payment. I can offer you a minor fortune if you succeed.”
Oedipus hates to show how desperate he is for money, but if anyone can pay him enough for a small spaceship it would be Daedalus. This might be the big job he’s searching for and maybe it’s worth putting aside the discomfort he feels at how easily Daedalus found him and how he seems to know more than he should about him. Anything to get off this planet.
“Tell me more about the job.”
“I knew you would be interested. See, I need a crew to open a vault. It sounds easy enough, but there are some trickier parts where your particular expertise might be needed…” And so Daedalus launches into an explanation of the job and a brief run-down of his soon-to-be fellow kidnappers.
He recognises both of their names, though there will one more as soon as Daedalus finds the right person. It seems like a strange choice of people but he won’t complain as long as they get the job done so he can escape. If Daedalus wants to hire people with a history of extremely bad luck it’s his own business.
Before he knows it, Oedipus agrees and they shake on it. Daedalus’ grip is firm and confident, but he can feel the beginnings of wrinkles to match his own. Daedalus is far older, but has barely aged a day in centuries. Oedipus can’t help but feel resentment against him for the way that immortality is won, but says nothing of it. The money he’s just been offered isn’t something he can risk, it’s his chance to escape.
There’s only a week left to the date when this is supposed to take place and he’s planning to keep a low profile and prepare his final escape from this damned City. Things are finally looking up.