I suggested that we stop near Market! Market! to break for a meal, but I had other reasons. Market! Market! is a hodgepodge of bazaar booths running for miles where you can find anything you want if you know where to look. There are thick crowds 24 hours a day despite the persistent rainfall that soaks the walking grids and pours off the awnings. I like the area because SLOPs are, at most, tolerated around these booths. Shivers patrol in small packs but know enough to stick to themselves. It’s public knowledge that the Johannas and Dark Night own these shadows.
I walked between the first of the booths and the smell of stir fry, cinnamon rolls, and beer caught my attention. Market!Market! offers enough of a sensory battery to wake the dead. The twinkling lights, calliope music, and amplified laughter let you know that you were not quite in the same world anymore. You could say that it has a unique atmosphere.
Many of the stands are family owned and have been carving out a living by cooking the same food for decades. Competition is always fierce and occasionally springs into violent feuding. I remember hearing that the Hoffman family (owners/operators of “Better than BEST Burger”) hired a Prop called Mr. Pain to trash out the Wright family’s cooking equipment (owners/operators of “BEST Burger”). He was supposed to chainaxe the grill and every plastic fork in the joint, but somehow “accidentally” whacked all twelve members of the Wright family. Sometimes the silliest things happen.
The stands and walkways are built on heavy rusted metal frames or concrete partitions that grow out of the landscape, but a number of flimsier temporary stands also exist. This was supposed to have been a fairground at one time or another, but with Mort’s constant drizzle, I can’t see the appeal of being out in it for entertainment purposes. Mostly people are only out in the cold rain because they have to be.
I knew the general area I wanted, but circled to both find the shop and look out for potential problems. I passed nude dancing/private show stands, street musicians, and fended off an aggressive vendor selling barbecued rat-kabobs. I’ve only knowingly eaten rat a few times, and those weren’t as bad as you’d think. If it isn’t cooked right, it’s bad enough to make you give up meat. Apparently, the key is a good sauce.
Staying with the flow of the crowd, I kept my eyes open for Shivers or Slops since I couldn’t afford to be caught carrying that hiss ’s power disc. There were none in sight, so I circled again and walked up the planks towards the door. It was one of the permanent ones covered with an amber tinted awning and plastic tarp siding. The awning had rusted and become brittle under the constant rain and rattled as the low wind pushed it. A decent crowd milled about in front of it, but were mostly talking and huddling out of the direct rain.
This was Maurice’s shop and he made a good show of selling clothes, but the caliber of the bodyguards he employed hinted that there was more going on. I pushed through the throng and was stopped by Larue, a tall dark-skinned man marked with the Johanna’s ritual scarring. From the marks and the patterns, I knew he was an Enforcer. He had a long knife on his right hip with a bone handle carved into a skull.
“I need to see Maurice.”
“White boy gotta name?”
“Mason.”He snorted, leaning back slightly towards the shop and repeated my name. After a moment he nodded and patted me down, removing my pistol and Taser. After I wiped my feet to his satisfaction, he finally let me through. The inside of the shop is far cleaner than the outside would suggest. There are no leaks, no rodents, and a thin carpet lines the floor. Men in gang colors were sitting around the room talking but immediately stopped and stared. Maurice stood when I entered and gave me a smile.
“If it isn’t my favorite ghost,” he said with a grin,” what brings you down to my part of town?” He held out his good hand and clasped mine. The edge of his smile showed the remains of a knife scar he took to get to his current position and wore with pride.
“I’ve got some work that needs to be done and I know you can make it happen.” I admired the raincoats and armorjacks hanging on the racks. A month or two ago he had one that I really liked. I would buy it if I found it or one like it.
“What sort of thing you need?”
“I need an ID made, one that will pass more than a casual inspection by Shivers.”Maurice was a craftsman and a reasonably safe guy to do business with since he didn’t like SLA any more than I did. If he couldn’t do the work himself, which was unlikely, he’d find someone else who could. Also, he liked a challenge and I thought I was about to give him one.
“Operative I assume, for you? Any particular Skull? Sponsors?”
“Yeah. Try a Skull of six to six and a half. Here’s the fun part. I need it to say Cloak Division and look real.”I expected him to choke, but he laughed instead.
“That’s no problem. Now if you wanted the data strip on the card to have a real identity, That would be difficult. Still not impossible.” Translation: more than I could afford.“I also need to find someone who can take care of a problem that I need disposed of. Someone who guarantees their work and comes equipped.”
“Who’s the garbage?”
“Skin Trader named Macy.”
“I’ll see what I can do and let you know.”Maurice stood over me by a few inches and outweighed me with pure muscle by at least fifteen pounds. His skin was dark and the scars and tatoos formed patterns of raised lines that broke up the cut of his muscles. You knew the moment you looked at him that he was dangerous and could back up any threat he made.
We had known each other for a long time and got along well despite my line of work and his gang. He normally doesn’t deal with people like me, but he said I was the exception. Once I got him out of the bad kind of trouble that could have killed him and he isn ’t the type to forgive or forget a debt. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the exception for one of Price Jasper’s men. He must have read my mind since he looked down at his right forearm where the prosthetic began and the flesh ended.
“You know, it still hurts on rainy days.” He said with a smile. The constant rain continued to tap the overhead awning.
“Doesn’t hurt as much as a smashed skull, or so I’m told.”He laughed for a moment and then turned back to business. We bartered and I traded the power disk, the lizard’s ID, and a crap CAF for the new ID. He said it would be ready in three days and stood me in front of a white card where he could take my picture.
“Shit Mason, you’re so white I gotta turn down my flash! Ever heard of a tanning bed boy?”. The peanut gallery laughed in the background. If I was ok with Maurice, then I was tolerable by them. Even so, I wasn’t going to push my luck. If they found out what I did, all bets were off.
With my eyes still showing bright spots, I shook his good hand and headed out to the rain. Compared to the dark confines of Maurice’ s stall, the outside was cold, damp, and very bright. Squinting badly, I headed towards the truck. Three days wasn’t long to wait for what I needed done.
As I cleared the side of the stall, there was a hum and pain doubled me over. I saw a bright light, and with my breath gone, fell forward off the walkway into a puddle.
“Remember us, asshole?”
I didn’t recognize the synthesized voice and looked up. Shivers were standing over me in the rain, and one patted his hand with a GASH baton then hopped down. Several of the others had their browbeaters out and two of them were dialing up the power grudge on their batons. I spoke through gasps as my breath started to come back. I couldn’t see any ID on their armor, but then the lead Shiver took off his helmet and hung it on his belt. There wasn’t any doubt how he knew me, but how in the hell did he find me?
“Mallplex a few days ago? Aren’t you off your beat?”
“Fuck you, Mort IS my beat. This just isn’t your lucky day, trader. Spam the piss ant!”He stomped me in the ribs, taking the rest of my wind and the others began to circle me to do the same. I heard the click of their armor as they stepped off the planking and circled me, but before they really got started, everything froze. I uncovered my head and looked around, still staying in a fetal position. Johannas had surrounded them with drawn weapons and several of the Shivers were aiming their browbeaters at the gang. This could get really ugly and I hoped no one did anything stupid. I heard Maurice call out.
“You know Mr. Shiver, you are actually on My beat. That means you are trespassing.”
The Shiver Sergeant glanced around without turning his body and sized up the situation.
“You civilians are interfering with official SLA business which makes you liable for prosecution and arrest. If you do not immediately-“
“Fuck you! Drop your guns, your ID’s, and your armor and maybe I’ll let you walk away.”The Sergeant knew he wasn’t going to intimidate the gang and couldn’t win the fight. He was probably going to get busted down to an even worse patrol area after this. His eyes locked with mine and bored in. “I’ll get you for this you son of a bitch. Men, stand down. We’re-“
Someone in his team must have been green and accidentally squeezed off a round. I heard the “pop” of impact on leather, and then everything exploded. Immediately, I scrambled under the planking. Slugs blasted the green armor apart in sprays of red and screams filled the air. The Sergeant fell forward with half his face gone, but I stayed where I was. After what seemed like forever, things finally went silent. Kicking the body away from me, I looked around and saw that the gangers were only mildly bruised. They immediately began dragging the Shivers away to strip and chop and didn’t give me a second look. For some reason I began to think of that Hiss that we killed in the rain.
I saw that the puddle I was sitting in was a deep red and scrambled out of it. Coming to my feet too quickly, I barely held off the heaving. I had to control the spasms until I was out of their sight.
“You’re looking a little green. You hit?” he said as he came over and put his hand on my shoulder.
“N-No, I’m not. Just a little shaken. I guess I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Guess your friend there isn’t going to get you after all, eh?”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. You did the same thing for me once, consider it a debt paid in’ fools’!”I walked away quickly and stayed clear of the awning so the rain could wash the blood and debris from my coat and hair. I held together long enough to get out of sight, then had to duck between kiosks when the spasms took over. It was a good five minutes until my body was solid enough to go on, which wasn’t nearly as long as in the past. I hoped that I wasn’t getting used to bloodshed. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and noticed an oriental kid watching me from the nearby stand. He was cradling a bottle of water and held it out to me.
“Thanks, you’re a life saver” I said as I took it and used it to wash out my mouth.
“Five Uni! gwailo fahn!”I smiled weakly and paid for it, then leaned on the wall until I was steady. Picking up two meals from “Jumpin Joe’s Taco Hell and Wetbar”, I headed on to the truck. The team had to be hungry by now, but I had lost my appetite in that puddle.
I was one step closer to solving the Macy problem, but each day was getting harder to survive.
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