Rumrunner

**Chapter Three: Red Light**

Argus looked up and down the dark street. It was nearly deserted, but that was only to be expected at this late hour. Somehow, Detroit didn't look how he had imagined it. He had thought it would look exactly like New York City had, but this city was more subdued. There weren't as many of the multi-storied buildings that New York had seemed so fond of, though there were more cars lining the streets. There were actually more cars lining the streets here than he'd ever seen in his home-town.

He thought that cars were actually a quite brilliant way to travel. Much more comfortable looking than broomsticks or jumping through fires. Plus, there was the added advantage that they weren't powered by magic, so he was capable of driving one. That is, if he ever set foot in one. He did have to admit that driving along on four skinny tires made of some strange material, with nothing but metal parts powering it rather than horses, did seem rather dangerous. He peered inside the window of one as he passed. The round wheel in front of one seat perplexed him- what was that there for?

He looked up once reaching a corner, and inspected the street signs. He found the street he was supposed to go down, according to the instructions on the letter. He walked and wove his way through the town, following the directions he'd memorised on the train. Thankfully, he didn't get lost this time. After a while, he stood before a low brick building that had the name Gatti spelled out across the front.

He looked at the entrance apprehensively. He knew it was late, but the letter said that any time was fine. He headed across the street, and knocked hesitantly on the door. A feminine voice called, "One moment, please."

He stood there, listening to the sounds of movement inside the building. After a few moments, the door was opened by a woman fast approaching old age. She was wearing an elegant gown, and an extravagant necklace heavy with sparkling and most likely fake jewels encircled her neck.

"I am Madame Bella," she announced, taking his hand in hers. "Welcome."

"Hello," said Argus nervously. She really didn't seem like any sort of specialist, especially not a magical one. In fact, the entire place seemed to be completely Muggle. None of the pictures moved. Argus thought it was a bit odd watching a landscape without any birds swooping across the sky. It seemed dead.

She motioned for him to follow her down the dark hall, and he did. He looked around, and was surprised at how homey the place was decorated. He would have thought that a place where Squibs regained magic would have had a more clinical atmosphere. She led him into a parlour, of sorts.

The furniture was plush and rich looking, and the carpet equally so. A few muted Tiffany lamps adorned tables, and everything was completely decked out in Art Nouveau style. Gorgeous paintings were hung on the elegant coloured walls, and there was a gleaming oak bar in the corner. Behind it, a man with a handlebar moustache and his shirtsleeves rolled up was pouring drinks, which was a mite odd due to current legality issues.

Argus noticed none of that. His eyes were set on the collection of women strewn artfully across the furniture and posing around the room. There were women of every shape, size, and color, from long, lean blondes to curvaceous black girls to a voluptuous Middle Eastern woman wearing a veil and not much more. Some of the women were dressed elegantly, some fashionably, some scantily. They were all made up as if they were about to spend the night painting the town red, and Argus had a feeling that was exactly their plan.

He was in a brothel.

He'd heard stories, of course, from the village boys, and heard whispers of them from his friends, but he personally had never set foot in one. He knew that there were a few down Knockturn Alley; some that even catered to specialist tastes of the customers. He'd heard of one that employed only Animagi, with special rates for exotics and dangerous forms. One girl who could turn into a boa constrictor was practically infamous.

He realized that Madame Bella was speaking. "Just choose whichever girl strikes your fancy."

And now the girls were introducing themselves- Collette and Angelina and Amina and Marie and Stella and Antha and Rosemary and Beatrice and Lissette and Isabella...

He could not even attach their faces to the sultry spoken names that were being tossed in his direction. He was too stuck on how much skin was revealed by these girls' clothing. Witches never went out in robes shorter than ankle length. These girls, though, were revealing a scandalous amount of skin. He had never seen this many female knees exposed before in his life. Some of the skirts had just ridden up high, but a few were actually cut short enough for knees to be seen.

He must have looked obviously overwhelmed, because the matron told him to take his time choosing. Then, a look passed on her craggy face, and she said, "Unless, of course, you would prefer one of our...specialties."

Argus shook his head quickly. This was obviously a Muggle whorehouse, so he didn't have to contemplate Animagi or kinky curse throwing. He could only assume what she meant by speciality- he'd also heard the tales of brothels offering the services of young children of both sexes, and boys just reaching manhood for patrons whose tastes ran in a slightly less traditional manner.

He started to say that he was in the wrong place when a lovely girl in the corner caught his eye. She had silky dark hair bobbed short, with strands clinging to her cheeks. Big, kohl lined blue eyes peered out from her otherwise plain face, with her lips painted the same as the other courtesans, to look provocative and lush. He didn't recall her speaking with the other girls.

"What is her name?" he asked, motioning towards the girl.

"She is not an option," replied the matron. She made a motion that obviously meant that was that. The matron talked for a moment outlining prices and rules, but Argus paid her no mind. He was watching the girl. The other girls, sensing that he was not going to come to an immediate decision, dropped out of their sexy poses and began to chat amongst themselves, a few going over to the bar.

His eyes were still locked onto the girl who was apparently not an option. He heard some noises from around back, male voices and loud clangs. The girl he was watching looked in the direction of a door that he assumed led out back, then started to cross the room towards him.

"Gisella, what are you doing?" hissed a dark skinned beauty wearing a vibrant red dress.

"Quiet, Speranza," Gisella responded.

"But-" Speranza protested, grabbing Gisella's arm. "You can't! You know they're right out back..."

"So?" Gisella brushed the other girl's hand off her arm, and continued over to Argus.

"Hello," Gisella said as she approached him. She fluttered her eyes, and there was no mistaking her stance for anything but flirtatious.

"Hello," replied Argus, unsure of how to behave. He really shouldn't even be in a Muggle whorehouse, and he should leave immediately, but Gisella had him mesmerised. His whole being was focused on the angel before him.

"Come with me?" Her voice was playful, and there was no way he would turn down those angel eyes.

"O-of course," he replied. This place wasn't what he thought it would be, but he'd be damned if he let this opportunity pass him by.

Gisella led him up a flight of stairs, and then into a pristine room dominated by a heavy framed bed. She didn't lead him to the bed, however, but instead began to unbutton his jacket deftly, her small hands pushing the Muggle garment that his mother had bought him from his shoulders. It fell to the floor, and Argus nearly tripped over it as he took a tiny step back from Gisella.

Argus spoke. "I'm-"

"Shush." Gisella cut him off. "No names here."

"But the other girls..."

"I'm not the other girls."

She leaned over, and kissed him then. The first kiss between two strangers in a bedroom in a whorehouse ought to have been at least a little awkward, at least by Argus's reckoning, since there was no qualms about what was going to happen next. However, he found himself kissing this beautiful girl hungrily, and no thoughts about social qualms or awkwardness remained in his mind for long.

"Wha--" His protest was cut off mid-word as she unbuttoned his trousers as well. She kissed him again, and he slid his hands up and down her sides, loving the feel of the thin silk that separated her body from his touch. She pulled back a little, and pushed him towards the bed as she leaned in for another kiss.

"Gisella? What the hell are you doing?"

Argus's only thought as Gisella fled to the other side of the room and he frantically tried to regain his dignity was 'what the-?'

Two men dressed in immaculate suits with neatly combed hair were standing in the doorway. The door was still swinging slightly on its hinges as they entered the room, both men's full attention focused on Gisella. They both looked to be Italian, and Argus thought that the larger one on the right bore a remarkable resemblance to Gisella.

"It's none of your business what I do!" snapped Gisella, hands on her boyish hips. "I am a grown woman, you know."

The larger man scowled at her. He had a scar cutting across his neck, Argus noticed, that looked like it had been rather painful. His nose looked like it had been hit with a frying pan, or perhaps a freight train. All in all, he looked like the type of man who could take on a rampaging bull and come out unscathed.

Argus wished vehemently that he had the ability to Apparate.

"I told you to wait in the lobby, Gisella, the lobby! Not to go cavorting about with some man. You know what kind of person comes to this sort of place!"

"Yeah, you come to this sort of place," shot back Gisella. "Besides, I was just having a little fun. I never get to go out anymore."

"Gisella, I can't believe you! What would our mother say if she could see you right now?" the large man snapped. Argus glanced around for exits from the room. Only the door that the two men, one the rather large brother of the girl he had thought was a prostitute, were blocking, and a tiny window high on one wall that Argus would never be able to fit through. Maybe he was destined to be killed in this Muggle whorehouse, then. He supposed there were worse ways to go...

Gisella yelled back at her brother, and the two began to bicker over their mother's morality. Argus just stood there, feeling both embarrassed and petrified. Finally, the second man took notice to him. "Hey, Aldo, what are we gonna do about that scumbucket?"

Aldo turned away from his yelling match with his sister, and looked Argus over. "We could fit him with some concrete shoes."

Argus hoped that they decided that concrete shoes were the wrong size for him. He then reconsidered that hasty decision as the unnamed man pulled a pistol out of his jacked and pointed it at him. The man's whole hand was twitching, and it was only a matter of time before the wrong finger twitched and everyone in the room would find out exactly how few brains Argus possessed. Argus figured that he ought to at least try to dig himself out of this hole he'd found himself in.

"I didn't know! I got lost!" Argus sometimes wondered about his own intelligence. That was possibly the worst excuse he had ever come up with, with the possible exception of the time he'd told his mother that the nonexistent house elf had been the one to break her most expensive vase after she had watched him trip over the edge of the carpet and knock it over.

The man with the pistol cocked it, and leveled it about even with Argus's face.

"Hold on, Giulio." said Aldo. It was hard telling who was more shocked, Giulio or Argus. Aldo turned to Argus. "Are you an immigrant?"

"No," Argus said. There was no way he would want to permanently live in this godforsaken country filled with derelicts, fake whores, and angry gun-toting brothers.

"You have an accent," said Aldo suspiciously.

"Because I'm not from this shithole country," replied Argus. "Don't see why anyone would want to be, personally. Awful place."

"America is the greatest country in the world!" exclaimed Giulio. Gisella looked slightly perplexed. Aldo looked intrigued.

"I didn't say any of the others were any better," Argus said. "If you ask me, there isn't a single place worth its salt on this whole damned planet. All of them filled with -- morons and the sort. Even my country's terrible. See, I'm not overly fond of any country, though that godawful ocean that I just crossed made this one seem a lot worse."

"You just crossed the ocean?" There was a glint in Aldo's eye that Argus didn't like one bit. It was the sort of glint that got into boy's eyes just before announcing some half-baked plan to go out into the lake in the middle of a storm, or explore crumbling ruins at midnight on Halloween, or to try to see up the prettiest girl in town's skirt.

"Yes," Argus said cautiously.

"And you aren't an American citizen."

"No."

"Did you go through customs?"

"What?"

"So they won't have your prints or picture on file," continued Aldo.

"I hope not, considering as I'm just visiting here. Should probably leave tomorrow, actually, since it turns out I don't have any business here."

Giulio was now grinning maniacally, and Aldo still had the glint in his eye. Gisella looked a little worried with her hands fretting at her sides, but she obviously also knew what Aldo was getting at.

"How would you like to work with us?"

The question startled Argus, and he could only look at Aldo, confused. "You don't even know me. Why would you want to hire me... wherever it is that you work?"

"Because," replied Aldo, calmly pulling a pistol out of his jacket, "you don't have a choice in the matter."

From the corner of his eye, he could see Gisella making a frantic motion with her hands. He didn't dare to turn his head to fully see what she was motioning, but he thought it looked like an encouraging movement.

"Three seconds," Aldo announced calmly.

Argus quickly decided that whatever the job was, it couldn't be that bad. He stuck out his hand, and said, "Argus Filch."

Aldo stuck out the hand not holding the pistol, and said, "Aldo Torrio." They shook hands, and Aldo introduced the other inhabitants of the room. "That's my sister Gisella, and our cousin Giulio."

Argus nodded at Giulio, and glanced at Gisella. She was now standing next to Giulio, and looked rather pale.

Aldo pushed the door closed.