Debtors Never Prosper

The third episode of Cyberpunk.

Story
There were no mornings in Alveus. There were no rise and shines, no cock-a-doodle-doos, nothing of that sort. Mornings had no place in a city with skies that were pitch black 24 hours a day.

The early hours became known as the “waking cycle” instead. During one of these waking cycles, a stronge breeze from outside woke the brothers Pat and Ron from their deep sleeps.

“Ron,” mumbled Pat. “Did you forget to close the window again?”

“No,” said Ron, trying to keep his eyes shut. “You saw me close the window last night, remember?”

“Then how did it get open?”

Pat grabbed a flashlight from under the bed, and when he turned it on, his face contorted in shock.

“Ron, I think you’ll want to see this.”

“Can it wait till later?”

“No, it can’t.”

Ron opened his eyes, and the first thing he noticed was Pat’s trembling red palm. The second thing he noticed was the severed head of a seahorse at the foot of his bed.

Pat and Ron were out of breath by the time they made it to SpongeBryan’s apartment.

“What’s going on?” yawned SpongeBryan as he let them in. “You two look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Something like that,” said Pat.

“We need your help,” said Ron. “We owe these mob guys a whole lot of money, and they’ve just made it clear that they know where we live.”

“Wait, you took a loan from the Pacific Mafia?” stuttered SpongeBryan. “Why?”

“Nobody else would invest in our goofishing business,” said Pat.

“For good reason, too. It went bankrupt in less than a year,” added Ron.

“Anyway, after we realized we couldn’t pay back the loan, we changed our names and moved to a new city, and it was working out great until now,” said Pat.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” said SpongeBryan.

“You never asked,” said Ron.

“Alright,” said SpongeBryan. “How do you want me to help?”

“Well, we’ll never get the money we need from night jobs alone. I think…we’re going to have to rob a bank,” said Pat.

“A bank? Are you crazy? A couple of chums like us would never make it past a security guard!” said SpongeBryan.

“Well, then what are we going to do?” asked Ron.

“What else can we do? We have to go right to the source, the gangsters’ abode. There, hopefully, we’ll be able to work out some kind of deal,” said SpongeBryan.

Pat, and Ron shrugged and followed SpongeBryan out the apartment, They ignited their rocket boots and took off for Pacific City, the capital of the ocean.

Pacific City was located in a trench, and before the days of rocket boots and jet-boats, one could only get to it by driving down a vertical road. Originally, the town’s bizarre species and customs made it an unpopular with other, more “civilized” societies. Though it didn’t have an official name at the time, its political corruption and extremely poor standard of living led to its inhabitants calling it Rock Bottom.

Rock Bottom went from having the worst economy in the ocean to having one of the best within a matter of decades thanks to its establishment of casinos and resorts for tourists. More than anything, however, the city’s unprecedented wealth stemmed from its thriving black market. By 4000, the newly-renamed Pacific City was the most popular tourist destination on the planet.

By the time SpongeBryan, Pat, and Ron arrived to the city, most of its casinos were just beginning to open. The casino they were looking for was the Fishes’ Playhouse, which was founded by, owned by, and run by the Pacific Mafia.

In the damp basement of the Fishes’ Playhouse, a group of hammerhead sharks was playing pool.

“Hey, do you know why the boss is out there in the front lobby?” said one shark.

“He said he was expecting visitors,” said another.

At that very moment, SpongeBryan, Pat, and Ron walked into the front lobby of the casino, where they were greeted by a great white shark.

“Welcome to the Playhouse!” said the great white. “My name’s Big Tony, and I’m here to make sure you have the ultimate in fun!”

Big Tony pulled out a deck of cards.

“How about a game of Go Fish to get you in the mood?” he said.

“No thanks,” said SpongeBryan. “My friends, Pat and Ron, just want to talk about a debt they owe you.”

Pat and Ron waved uncomfortably.

“Ah, you two!” laughed Big Tony “Well, spit it out. What do you want to say?”

“Do you think you can extend the deadline for paying back the money?” squeaked Pat.

“Well,” said Big Tony. “You’ve already had seven years, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. But we’ll just need a teenie tiny bit more time,” said Ron.

“A teeny tiny bit?” said Big Tony.

“Yes,” said Ron.

“Alright, then. You have a week.”

“We were thinking more like another year,” said Pat.

“Ha ha! That’s funny!” said Big Tony.

“I’m serious, though,” said Pat.

“Oh…listen, I’d love to give you a bunch of leeway on debt, but if I did it for you, I’d have to do it for everyone. That’s bad business, you know? I can’t do that.”

Pat and Ron lowered their heads in defeat. Then, after a few seconds, Big Tony smiled.

“Actually,” he said. “I think we can make a bargain, if you’re up to it..”

“Anything! Anything!” chanted Pat and Ron.

“I want to play your yellow friend in Go Fish,” said Big Tony. “If he beats me, I’ll extend the deadline. Hell, I’ll even cut the debt in half!”

“Wait, you want to play SpongeBryan? Why? He doesn’t have anything to do with this,” said Ron.

SpongeBryan was silent. He had just recovered from a gambling addiction, which was fueled at this very casino. He never told Pat and Ron about it. He was too ashamed.

“I’ll do it,” said SpongeBryan.

“Then come along,” said Big Tony as he led SpongeBryan to his office.

Perhaps that was one of the reasons I decided to come here with Pat and Ron, thought SpongeBryan. Yeah, I wanted to provide support and everything, but maybe I also wanted to play this one last game.

SpongeBryan played that one last game. He played it harder than he had ever played a card game before. When he finally walked out of Big Tony’s office, Pat and Ron were right there waiting for him.

“So?” said Pat.

“You need to get him his money by next week,” growled SpongeBryan. “And I’ll have to get him a couple thousand dollars on top of that.”

“Wait, you made additional deals?”

“I have a problem, okay? I’ve always had a problem. And now it’s gotten us all in the hole.”

“Well, what will Big Tony do if we don’t get him his money on time?”

“He said that for every day that we’re late on our payments…somebody close to us will die.”