Chapter 8: The Unblinking Eye
The city of Montreal breathed around Elias Thorne, a complex organism of soot-stained brick, gleaming new automobiles, and the ever-present undercurrent of desperation fostered by the Depression. From his modest apartment, Elias watched it, not just with his own keen eyes, but increasingly through the senses of others – the primal strength of Thomas, the furtive skittering of Mickey, and now, the needle-sharp perception of Anya Petrova.
His System interface, a constant companion visible only to him, showed subtle but encouraging shifts. [Host Power: 3.28]. The minute increments from Mickey's continued gleanings and Anya's developing attunement were slowly accumulating. His energy reserves were still at [75.80/100], as he hadn't empowered anyone new since Anya. The 'Influence (Localized)' had ticked up to [0.7%] after the Leclerc incident, and 'Reputation (Underworld – nascent)' was now [Established – Minor Player (Whispers)]. Whispers. That was good. Whispers traveled, bred uncertainty, and gave him an aura of mystery before he even stepped onto the main stage.
Lou Scarelli wouldn't take the humiliation at Leclerc's lightly. The man's reputation was built on fear and swift retribution. Thomas's intervention was a direct challenge. Elias knew a response was inevitable. The question was, what form would it take? He wouldn't send thugs to face Thomas again directly, not immediately. Scarelli was a brute, but not entirely witless. He'd try to gather information first. Who was this "Mr. Thorne"? Who was the mountain of a Scotsman who broke hands and caved in chests?
This was where Anya Petrova became invaluable.
He met her by the waterfront, near the clock tower at Quai de l'Horloge. The St. Lawrence River, grey and choppy under an overcast sky, stretched out before them. Anya was different from their last meeting. The initial awe of her powers had settled into a quiet confidence. She was still dressed simply, but there was an alertness in her stance, a sharpness in her hazel eyes that wasn't just natural acuity anymore. It was power, harnessed.
"Miss Petrova," Elias greeted her.
"Mr. Thorne." She nodded, her gaze sweeping their surroundings with an efficiency that was almost unsettling. "The air is clearer today. I can see the individual rivets on the Jacques Cartier Bridge."
"Your senses continue to adapt, then." Elias offered her a small, wrapped parcel. "Pastries. From a decent bakery. You should keep your strength up."
She accepted it with a slight, grateful smile. "Merci."