Sol system Chapter 6

The laser hurt more than the needle did. It had to make the Tattoos look old though, at least the gel being applied by the attractive yet probably a prostitute assistant cooled the burning down while accelerating the healing. Oliver tried to remember what each tattoo meant as it burned deeper into his skin. The Chinese on his forearm meant he was an accountant for the Triads, he was allowed to handle money. The dragons around his bicep clutched its own tail, meaning he reported to someone higher up. If he moved up the ranks it would be covered up by something else.
“We need more.” The tattoo artist looked up Oliver as if he was waiting for him to answer a question. Oliver stayed looking confused to avoid thinking about the pain. “You need more to look natural, or else people know all these new.” The tattoo artist’s accent was so thick Oliver had to process all the words twice and the sentence three times.
“Start with where he grew up.” The voice came from behind the reclined chair Oliver sat in, but he instantly rolled his eyes in recognition of its owner.
“Ooohhh, Xiao Ling, I honored you come in person.” The Tattooist did a small bow from his seat behind the small consol that linked to the mechanical arms controlling the lasers and needles. Xiao waved at the old man low as if to motion him away, but really he was just ignoring him.
“You grew up on the east side right? Alota tea shops that way, you seem like the kind of guy who would drink alota tea.” Xiao turned a chair around and sat in it facing Oliver, his smug grin floating above his arms crossed on the chair’s back.
“Ooohhhh I have good art for just the thing.” The tattooist began motioning at his consoles, looking through stored art.
“” Xiao mocked the elder tattoo artist in Mandarin, knowing full well he only spoke Cantonese. Oliver spoke enough mandarin to get by; but simply stared at Xiao Ling as he pulled a strange object from his jacket. This would be only the third time Oliver and Xiao had spoken, but Oliver already knew he would hate this man forever. “What about something for his mother? She died recently you know.” Oliver’s blank stare became dire as Xiao put on a strange piece of jewelry, a three inch wide ruby plate, backed with gold and two rings attached to it that he slid his fingers through before making a fist. “What was her name again?”
“Mae.” Oliver felt her name soiled by uttering it in front of him. Xiao simply returned his grin and scooted closer to Oliver’s chair, thoroughly inspecting the assistant applying regenerative gel on Oliver’s arm.
“I make something new just for her, how do you like this for tea?” The tattoo artist swung his screen around to display the logged artwork. Oliver turned his gaze to inspect the piece, not really caring what it was but agreeing to it anyway. He didn’t notice Xiao place the ruby plate in the path of one of the lasers until Xiao had grabbed his right arm and pushed the plate against it.
Oliver screamed with anger and pain, bearing his teeth at the almost laughing Xiao, the needles and lasers stopping and pulled back as movement sensors sounded. Oliver stared at the Ruby plate, now a bright red, having been heated. Xiao pulled back after a full 10 seconds. Oliver continued to writhe as he stared at the brand, the burnt flesh distorting most of what it said. The startled assistant moved towards Oliver and began applying the gel to the burn, who twitched at every touch.
“Oh don’t be such a baby.” Xiao took his jacked half off, revealing over a dozen burns of the same type covering his arm. The healed brands showing an intricate design of dragon wrapped around Chinese symbols.
“Mister Xiao, I did not know.” The tattooist stood astonished and worried.
“Its alright old man, nobody did.” Xiao pulled back on his jacket and grabbed Oliver’s shoulder like they were brothers. “But now everyone will.” He laughed as he left the room. Silence prevailed in his absence. The Tattooist not making a noise, the assistant applying gel, but keeping her gaze averted.
“What does it mean?” Oliver got more worried as the Assistant’s face showed astonishment at the question, making eye contact just long enough to be polite and answer the question.
“They are awarded for each kill in service to the Triad.”