Anders had lived in Teepus Hole for most of his adult life. The majority of that time had been spent in Morrowton, the section of the city that roughly comprised two-thirds of its total area.  Morrowton was not what would classically be called good. Almost all of its people were exceptionally poor. There was very little in terms of sanitation, with people throwing refuse and garbage into the street or into the canals as often as bagging it to be hauled away, and the rule of law was about as scarce as the stench was common.

Toville, on the other hand, was everything an upstanding citizen could want in a city, which is why Anders had moved there as soon as he was able. The guards were helpful and efficient, with uniforms constantly clean and well starched. The streets were kept clear of litter and debris. Upscale restaurants were the norm for a night out, instead of pubs and brothels as in Morrowton.

It was these very reasons that Anders bought a building and retired to an easier life like he had dreamed of for so long, he decided to have the building be in Morrowton.

Toville was rich and clean and pretty, and every single person who lived there was a pompous, arrogant prick. Anders hated them all. People in Morrowton may have been scum, cons, and crooks, but at least they were nice. And if they hated you, they’d say it to your face.

Admittedly, retiring hadn’t gone smoothly. Anders let his eyes drift around the smoky interior of his bar and smiled at the humble business he was able to consistently draw. Not that that business was what gave his planned retirement trouble. He had side projects that required attention.  

“Hey Anders, how about a top off?” Johanne asked, slapping a couple coins on the bar top. Anders gave the man a chuckle and finished filling the pint he had already been preparing. After all these years the barkeep took pride in knowing his people.

“And what skirt shall we be chasing today?” Anders asked as he set down the glass. Johanne took a long drink before responding.

“That one,” he finally said, gesturing with his chin at Aleks, one of the serving girls.

She was new, her bright young face and perpetually rosy cheeks framed by night black curls. Startlingly attractive, for a girl her age in Morrowton. After this long, most of them had signs of old injuries or missing teeth. If Anders had been twenty years younger and unmarried, she would have been very much his type.

“I suppose it would be pointless to warn you off of chasing one of my employees?” Anders leaned back against the drink wall and idly washed a glass that didn’t need washing.

“It most definitely would be,” Johanne nodded. When he set down his mug he made a yowling motion with his mouth. “This swill of yours tastes like shit.”

“That swill is Magran ale.”

Johanne frowned and looked at the liquid in the glass.

“The Magran family has really gone downhill lately.”

Anders gave a chuckle and opened his mouth for moment. Then he shut it and responded with a nod.

The door to the bar opened and a figure entered Anders had never seen before. He was tall, perhaps slightly taller than Anders’ six feet. He wore a long, dark grey coat, in spite of the tropical weather. The heat didn’t seem to bother the man, though a few beads of sweat adorned his brow.

He approached and sat at the bar, moving easily through the bustle of people. Along the way Aleks turned away from a table and bumped straight into him, knocking over several glasses from the tray she was carrying. The man’s hands snapped out with surprising speed, snatching all three glasses before they could hit the ground.

“Gods, I’m so sorry,” Aleks squeaked, righting the drinks on the tray and using a napkin to dab at the drips of beer on his coat. He offered her an easy smile and patted her hand.

“Pretty little thing like you? That kind of run in is more than worth it,” He reached a hand up to hold her chin for a moment before brushing his thumb against Aleks’ nose.

Anders braced himself, expecting to see the newcomer get slapped. Instead Aleks just stared at him, a blush spreading across her already red face. The man paid it no mind, already turned away from her and sitting down at the bar.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” the man nodded at Johanne. Anders grabbed a mug.

“Magran ale, coming up.”

The man grimaced and waved the barkeep off.

“Never mind then. Not was he’s having. I’ve heard the Magran family has fallen off lately.”

Anders nodded and started pouring some Beddon.

“I’ve heard the same. Loads of rumors flying around that the eldest one went off and some adventure, leaving the estate to the younger brother. Apparently he’s gone and scarred his face something severe.”

The man gripped the drink as Anders set it down and gave a throaty chuckle.

“I have it on very good authority,” the man said. “That he cut himself shaving.” He laughed again, as if he had just made a very humorous joke to himself, and took a long draught. He set the glass down with a sigh and looked up at Anders.

“What’s your name then?” he asked. At the same time he brought forth a pouch of coins and let it clink on the table.

“Anders.”

“Anders. Can I ask you a question?”

The barkeep spread his arms out wide.

“I live to serve.”

“Do you believe in free will?”

The question took Anders by surprise. A bar in Morrowton wasn’t exactly the center for philosophical inquiry. Existential questions came out of his patrons’ mouths about as often as birds did.

“I suppose so,” he finally responded, leaning forward on his bar.

The man set two coins on the table. One was a rugged looking copper flit, the average price for a drink in the bar. The other was a much more pristine looking gold steed, worth roughly twenty times as much as the other.

He leaned back and gestured at the coins.

“I’ll pay with either one,” he began. “The choice is utterly up to you. I won’t need change if you choose the gold, you can keep it all. However, before you choose. I just want to say this…”

His finger tilted down to point at the golden coin.

“I want you to choose this one.”

Anders glanced at Johanne, who was watching the whole affair with wide eyes, before looking back down at the bar top. His gaze drifted between the two coins.

“I can choose either one?” he asked.

The stranger nodded.

“Either one. Just remember. I want you to choose the gold.”

Anders shook his head in bewilderment. He reached out, plucked up the gold coin, and pocketed it. His smiled broadly and gestured at the remaining coin.

“And why did you choose that one?”

Anders shrugged.

“It’s worth more. It just a smarter choice.”

Even as he was finishing his sentence the man was shaking his head.

“No,” he intoned. “You chose the gold coin because I told you too.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh? I did tell you to choose the gold, didn’t I?”

“Well, yes.”

“And you did choose it didn’t you?”

“That’s not fair though,” Anders frowned. “I can’t go back and prove it somehow, but it wasn’t just because you told me too.”

The stranger raised a hand to silence the barkeep.

“Fine. Let’s try it again,” he began and pulled another gold coin out, placing it on the table. “For the record though, you’ll still end up choosing what I want. Now, pick the gold coin.”

Anders wasted no time in reaching out and grabbing the copper flit. He may have been missing out on a valuable coin, but he already had one more steed then he expected to get tonight and damnit, he wanted to beat this guy.

“There,” Anders declared proudly. “I didn’t do what you want.”

His guest was already shaking his head again though.

“I’m afraid you did,” he chuckled. Anders scowled, but the man continued. “I told you to pick up the gold coin. I wanted you to pick up the flit. After what happened the first time and how you talked, it was obvious you would. I may have been subversive, but I still guided your actions.”

Anders’ scowl only deepened.

“That’s some pretty shitty hindsight justification,” the barkeep snapped.

“True, it could easily seem that way,” the man laughed once again. “How about a different exercise then, eh?”

Anders sighed, but curtailed his response when he felt the weight of the gold in his pocket. If this kept up he could at least get richer for his time.

“Fine,” he finally conceded. “What’s next?”

The man smirked and waved his hand dismissively.

“Simple really. I want you to kill me.”

Anders turned again to Johanne and the pair raised an eyebrow to each other. Slowly, the barkeep turned back and shook his head.

“No,” he nearly laughed. “You didn’t seem that drunk to me but you’ve got to be off your rocker at this point.”

“Nothing of the sort. It’s just an experiment. You’re saying no, you won’t kill me. Why not?”

“Because it’s illegal!” Anders exclaimed, perhaps more sternly than he had intended. Across the bar, Aleks stopped in talking to a customer to look back him.

“And immoral,” he finally continued, quieter. “Not to mention I just don’t have a reason to.”

“Well I did command you to.”

“And yet I’m not doing it,” the barkeep chuckled. “Kind of disproves your point.”

“Not at all,” the stranger said after taking another drink and shaking his head. “We’re talking about disproving free will here. No one said it would be easy. Clearly I’ve just got to up the ante.”

“And how I’ll you do that?”

“By telling you I’ve killed your family.”

Anders stopped cleaning the glass he had returned to and froze. Slowly, he set the mug down, concerned that he might throw if it stayed in his hand. Johanne had frozen as well, his eyes flicking back and forth between the barkeep and the strange man sitting before him.

“Sir,” Anders began carefully. “I don’t know if this is some kind of sick joke to you or what. But you’ve officially crossed a line.”

The man held up his hands in surrender.

“I assure you, I didn’t mean to cause distress. It’s just a thought experiment. I apologize if it hit a slightly morbid tone. Nevertheless, could you answer the question?”

The barkeep shook his, but in frustration, not a negative response to the question.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered. “I suppose you want me to say I’d kill you”

“I simply want you to make a choice,,” the man urged. “To prove you have free will.”

“But you did tell me flat out to kill you earlier.”

“Fair enough. How do you think your wife would feel about it?”

Anders grunted again.

“She wouldn’t want vengeance. She’d want me to forgive you, to move on,” the barkeep gave a long sigh. “I guess that’s what I would actually do. Never was crazy about killing people. It wouldn’t have anything to do with your free will wondering, but I just… I don’t know. I wouldn’t be able to kill you. For her.”

The stranger nodded to himself slowly, as if coming to a conclusion.

“An admirable decision. One I think your wife would applaud if she were still with us.”

Anders’ lip curled at the comment.

“Enough,” he barked. “I’m sick of you and your questions. Get out of here, and stay away from my family!”

The strange man raised a hand in surrender.

“I assure you, sir, your family won’t be getting another visit from me any time soon.”

The man frowned when he saw Anders’ face turn.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you misunderstand me earlier? I really did kill your family,” He gave the barkeep and smile. “Thought experiments always seem to work better for me when they’re based in reality.”

A cold sickness began to creep over Anders’ body. He shook his head, trying to reject what he was hearing.

“Look,” he said. “I know they’re fine. I don’t know why you’re pulling this trick but you picked the wrong man to try it on. I’m a lot more important than you think I am and my family is-“

“Very well protected,” the stranger finished, nodding. “Yes, I assure you, they were. And I do in fact know who you are, Solomon Anders. I know who your wife is, and your sister and daughter. I know about the safe room off of the kitchen, and the extra two guards in the secret room beneath the stairs.

“I know that your wife’s last words were to cry out for a man named ‘Johanne’. I didn’t look too deeply into your friends and associates, but if you do have one named that, I’d wager a guess that your wife was quite smitten.

“Don’t worry too much. Your daughter is very much alive and unharmed. Well, physically unharmed. I wasn’t thinking about it at the time but I suppose a child waking up next to the bodies of her mother and aunt would likely have some effect on her.”

The man paused in he speech to stand and picked up the glass. He tilted it back and started quaffing down the remnants. Anders realized he had been squeezing his fists so tight his palms were bleeding, and one hand was already on the large knife he kept hidden beneath the bar. A rage he didn’t know existed was filling him, a mad desire to act.

“So,” his guest spoke again. “What do you say we go ahead have you make my point, hm?”

He grinned again, and the force of that sickening smile made Anders want to scream, vomit, and stab something all at the same time. The smirk only widened as the man went to speak again.

“I want you to kill me.”

———————————————–

Carl strolled down the alley in no particular hurry. His night had been rather rudely interrupted as the underboss had sent runners to wake up the crew. Apparently, there had been a serious commotion down at Anders’ bar. Whatever it was had been enough to call in a good deal of back up.

Carl didn’t particularly care though. He was small potatoes, and even a full on regime change was unlikely to having a meaningfully impact on his day to day life.

No, if they were going to insist on dragging him out of bed, he was at least going to enjoy a good smoke on the way there. The feel of tobacco being packed into his pipe even managed to make him smile a little bit, and he slowed to a stop to take a few puffs

“Ah, perfect.”

The voice startled Carl. He turned to find a tall man with slicked back hair exiting another alley. He had what looked like rolled up paper stuck in his mouth.

“Mind if I borrow a match from you friend?” the man asked.

Carl nodded and handed him his matchbook wordlessly. The stranger smiled as he struck a match and lit the paper. Heavily scented smoke began wafting off the tip of it.

“Much better,” he sighed, handing the book back.

As he reached out his long coat pulled back, revealing a shirt splattered in crimson. Carl’s eyes widened. The man looked down at himself, tracking Carl’s eyes, and gave a soft laugh before looking back up.

“Don’t worry,” he grinned. “It’s not my blood.”

He held onto the rolled up paper and seemed to inhale it slightly. A moment later he let out a breath full of smoke.

“My name is Damian, by the way,” he introduced himself, smiling in a chilling way. “You got a second to chat? I’ve been having some interesting thoughts on the subject of free will.”