We brought in two loads of trim by working the area around the 533 tram station. It’s one of the main egress routes for the CIGC and is a big hangout for the students. CIGC or “sigsee” stands for the “Conner Institute for Gifted Children” and is some sort of breeding ground for the more promising orphans of SLA. Young, healthy, naïve youth mill about and pose as the future Slops and scientists that they expect to become. I took them down in small groups and we filled the trucks without much effort. Ah the beautiful people.
Instead of making a third run, I cut the other truck loose with instructions (we were only running 2 of 3 because of losses) then gave Chaz a new route. We rumbled down several access ramps and stopped in one of the open bays of the Blackstone Foundry in old downtown. Light was provided by flickering fluorescent tubes that hang from the level above us, so everything had a strobing green tint. The drive took about forty minutes and we had to cross briefly through both the Kiestas’ and Johanna’s turfs. We got lucky and didn’t have any problems.
I climbed out of the truck and Chaz got out at the same time then came around.
“You sure about this man? You going in alone?”
“Yeah. Someone’s gotta watch the truck.”
“How ‘bout you take Maab with you. She’s better than nothing.”
“No. I’ve put you two on the line enough. Time for me to risk my own neck.” He looked around and gave me that look like he was going to object and I shook my head.“If you aren’t back in an hour, I’m coming after you.”
“No. If I’m not back in an hour, you’re the new truck boss and I’m not coming back. Watch over the other two trucks.”I walked through the green shadows of the girders and around one of the massive concrete pillars that supports the framework. It must have been at least twenty feet in diameter and was decorated with graffiti that reminded me of Johanna rank scars. The only clear sound was the pop and hiss of black rain dripping into the hanging light panels. Risking a look up, I saw protean shadows dodging and fading as their owners scurried past. They were probably scared out of their wits as they risked walking these streets. I wondered if they ever looked up or down, or just had tunnel vision fixed on where they were going. Not a pleasant way to live.
Scraps of rust, rubble, and strips of frayed cable insulation littered the scarred street and popped as I stepped through it. Stopping for a moment, I listened to the distant sounds of the city around me. Distant muffled voices, metal on metal, and the hiss of rising steam gave the area a break from what might otherwise be silence. The grating I was walking on vibrated so slightly that it felt like a pulse. I had no doubt that this city was alive.
I crossed Broad Street and moved between the rusting hulks of the warehouses that marked the start of the industrial sector. The gang graffiti tags end here and mark the beginning of no man’s land. Both the Kiestas and Johannas stay on their side of the “rust curtain” both because there wasn’t anything to loot beyond it and they fear what hunts here. There are a lot of superstitions about what stalks these ruins, but I’m not sure what is street myth and what is true. I know that there are no Shiver patrols within two blocks of the curtain, so something must be going on.
After about fifteen minutes of walking, I found an overhead access pipe to one of the city’s old power conduits. Heavy and rust covered, the huge tube was splintered in places to show bands of frayed cables. It was the marker I had been looking for so I walked along beneath it until it came to its starting point. I was here.
The street was void of any motion, but the sound of music echoed from a heavy bombshelter-like structure ahead of me. Even though this was only one of the access points, it was made of heavy concrete with enough reinforcement to take an artillery strike. It’s funny that I’ve never been here, but I always knew it looked like this.
I stepped carefully onto the first set of stairs that were also made of concrete and began to make my way down. A series of signs and warnings were hung overhead in someone’s sick sense of humor. Things like “In Case of Meltdown, grab your ankles and kiss your ass goodbye”, or “Don’t run from nuclear fireballs, you only die tired and charred”. This wasn’t my world, but I knew someone called it home.
The spiraling stairs finally straightened out and opened into what had been turned into a freak show promenade. People bustled back and forth in front of a Rogue’s gallery of killers, each posing for attention and your cash. I couldn’t help but stare at some of the more unusual ones and the rough signs at their feet, even though I knew it was a risk. Do you really want to stare at a psychopath packing that kind of firepower? I made sure not to make eye contact, but that wasn’t enough to avoid their interest.
“Hey pretty boy! YOU!”
Something grabbed me by the arm and spun me to face it. A huge woman, probably two full meters tall, had taken hold and spun me to into her. She wore a mixture of black leather, chain mail, and ceramic armor. The words “AMAZING-ONE -AMAZING FUN– AMAZON” were painted across her breastplate and her tongue writhed out through a slit cut in her hockey mask.
“You looking for a REAL piece? Want the BEST? You found her!”
I thought about asking her if she was a hooker or a Prop, but decided against it. Was the quietest voice she could use a shout?“Prices. You got a price list?”. My mouth was dry and I was beginning to think this was a bad idea.
“Yeah, right here”, her voice became more business like as she pulled a laminated card from a holster. Cute idea.
“Hey corp-boy! I wouldn’t deal with Amazon if I was you. She ain’t exactly-“
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”, she screamed, cutting the other prop off. His name card said “Red Hannibal” and I had never heard of him.
“Before I was so rudely interrupted, I was about to explain my list of services that I ca-“
“Ask her what happened to the last corp-boy she was hired by! Ask her!”
Red Hannibal wasn’t giving up and seemed to be getting a kick out of this. She stopped for a moment and put the business act aside for the moment.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP HANNIBAL, OR ELSE!”
“or WHAT bitch? You gonna sell me out to a mob of gangers like you did that that last guy!”
That was it. She let go of my arm (she had not let go until now) and kicked a Chainaxe into her hand from its resting place at her feet. She lunged at him and with a “Hell Yeah!”, he met her half way with a custom looking powered sword. I jumped back and guns came out of everywhere, aiming at the two. They stopped short and looked around. A big prop in heavy armor pushed through and shoved the two of them apart. Amazon stumbled slightly and both props looked like kids that had been caught beating on a younger brother.
“You two fuckups start a furball here, and you’re both dead. You aren’t just fucking with each other’s income, you’re fucking with all of ours too. This is you’re last warning, got it?”
The two separated and put their weapons back. I didn’t need anyone that unsteady, so I moved on. I wasn’t more than a few steps away when some of the shoppers crowded in on the two of them. Guess showmanship is good for everyone.
I wasn’t more than a dozen steps away when someone bounced a brass casing off my shoulder. Out of reflex I looked over and looked at the Prop that had tossed it. He was big (were they all taller than me?) and wore a leather S&M mask that matched the rest of his costume. His arms were bare and covered with tatoos and he wore a spiked dog collar around his neck. The words “CUM GET SUM” were painted in white across the black ceramic breastplate. He had a huge multi-barreled cannon slung over a shoulder and was grinning like an idiot. I wondered how these people took themselves seriously. I figured I’d play along. I looked for his name card and stepped up to the plate.
“So ‘Axeman’, why should I hire you over the others here?”
“’Cause I guarantee tuh do thuh job you want or die tryin”
“Others say the same thing. Why should I believe you over them?”. I knew I was pushing, but I also felt he wouldn’t to try something in front of them.
“I live by muh word. That enough.” He was still grinning like an idiot. I noticed that he was tapping his foot and bobbing his head to some music that I couldn’t hear. I noticed a small black headset clipped to the top of his skull.
“Uh-huh. What kind of experience do you have?”
“Gotta FEN Warmonger.”
“So?”
“Only get ‘em on Warworlds. Can’t buy one on the market. Gotta earn it.”
“Right. Later”, I said and walked away. For some reason I didn’t think he could cut it and I didn’t need a poser, so I decided to look for someone else. Someone who could walk the walk, talk the talk, yadda yadda.
“Hold it”, he said and stepped in my way. “You ain’t seen my resume.”
He put weird stress on the word, drawing the last syllable out. Rezz-oo-maaaaay. Great, I had bruised his ego. He pulled the Warworld cannon he had bragged about off his back and caressed it like a pet rat.
“Ok, what kind of experience do you-“ I began, but he cut me off.
“Six months on Dante, two weeks on Charlie’s Point, and ‘bout twenty years uh street fight’in”.
I was surprised that he didn’t list long times on the only two Warworlds I’ve ever heard of. Maybe a little more honest than I thought, or a lot more stupid.
“Ooooo! Six whole months on Dante! I’m so impressed! Hey civie, why don’t you stop wasting time with the pup and come talk to the Expert over here. I’ve had two FULL tours on Dante and took a fuckin vacation on Charlie’s Point!” The prop that had said it had the name “Expert” on his sign. Probably helped him remember what he was supposed to be.
Whomever I hired didn’t have to be an expert, just a well-armed killer that could hose Macy and her crew. This one might do, but I wasn’t sure he wasn’t a poser. I would try to check him out first.
“You have a card or anyway for me to reach you? I want to check your ‘references’. I have to make sure you’re reliable before I drop money.” I said.
The Prop nodded and pulled on a ring at his crotch, unzipping his business card pouch. He handed one to me, then zipped up again. His idiot grin came back and he got out of my way as I started to walk.
“I’ll be in touch”, I said and walked away.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE GOING WITH THE PUP! YOU ARE A FUCKIN IDIOT!” echoed after me. I snatched one of Red Hannibal’s and one of Amazon’s cards on my way out to keep my options open.
When I got back to the street, I was aware of how humid and warm it had been down there. My sweat was cold on my skin and I involuntarily broke into goose bumps. I’m not sure if it was because of the close quarters or if the rumors that this used to be a reactor were actually true. No matter as I stepped into the rain and followed my path back to the truck.
I had never put out a contract on anyone before and my mind milled it around. Killing someone in self-defense is one thing, but what about hiring someone to kack someone preemptively? I was more concerned that whatever prop I hired would not be able to pull it off and the whole thing could backfire on me. This required a lot of caution, so I would take one step at a time.
Maybe I was too wrapped up in my thoughts, since I didn’t see him until he stepped out. A Johanna with a sawed off twelve-gauge stepped out in front of me, followed by a dozen of his friends. I figured I could talk my way out of it, given half a chance. It wasn’t like they knew what I was.
The lead one spoke to someone I couldn’t see yet.
“This him? The Skin Trader?” He spat each word.
Shit.
“Uh-huh. That’s him. Name’s Mason and he did the nasty with your sis.”I recognized the voice and my blood froze when I saw who it was. It was Larue, one of Maurice’s bodyguards.
“Larue. Maurice send you?” I asked, but I already knew the answer.
“Moving up on my own, motherfucker. I’m gonna enjoy this.” He said and pulled a pistol from his belt. Two of the others had guns on me but the others chose knives. This wasn’t going to be quick. The gang knew there was no way I could get my pistol free in time, not that I could shoot this many people anyway. Thank God I didn’t have Maab or Chaz with me.
“Why don’t we try to work out some kind of business arrangement?” I said. I knew there was nothing I could do to persuade them, but maybe I could stall them long enough to think of something.
The group fanned out in front of me, grinning like a bunch of animals. I looked at the eyes of the one I thought might be in charge (it wasn’t Larue) and made my play.
“The Trade steal your sister? I can help you get her back.” I said. He looked at me and listened. I might have a chance with this. “You don’t have any other way…”
The two gangers on the left lunged in and picked me up. The slammed me against the corrugated steel siding of the warehouse and it rattled. Red dust and soot flew and the wind almost left my lungs. They held my arms spread against the wall while the leader walked around. I think I had his interest.
“Without me, you will never find her and you know it.” I stared into his face and he glared back with something beyond hate. He wanted me dead, painfully, but I was making sense.
“If I’m going to help you, I need some info. A picture, name, when she disappeared, you know. I can’t help you if I’m dead or crippled.”
“You gonna take us where they holding her and we gonna let ‘em all go! Then we settle with your people. ”
“There’s no way you could get to where they are. I am the only one who can do it for you, and we have to make a deal first. First of all…”
“Here’s the ‘deal’. You live a little longer if you do what I say. Make no mistake, m’man, you are dead. Your choice, if it come now or later.”
He wasn’t going to be persuaded. This bonehead wanted to hit the Trade’s stock house with guns blazing. That’s only happened a few times in the past five or so years when people’s memories fade. Every time the Tradee stacks the bodies waist deep in the gutters.
Larue moved up and hit me in the stomach, doubling me over. My gut knotted and burned as I fell to my knees. While I fought tunnel vision, I leaned forward and made a show of gasping for air. It allowed me to stretch and unsnap my holster. My fingertips touched the butt of my pistol and I was ready. There was no way I was going to go down without a fight. I really am tired of getting punched.
“I know where he takes them. I gonna cap him, then we go and take care of business.” He pulled the slide back on the pistol and spat on me.
“Don’t you want to make it slow and painful, you son of a bitch?” I asked. I needed a distraction before I could pull my weapon.
I head a shout from one of the gangers and they started firing at something down the street. That counted as a distraction and Larue was looking back the way I’d come. I jerked my pistol from under my jacket and slapped his barrel to point away from me. His eyes snapped to mine and I pulled the trigger. His face clenched up and his pistol discharged past my shoulder, but I didn’t hear it. A growing roar bounced from the corrugated siding and everything seemed to shake. I shielded my eyes as dust and splinters flew from under some kind of heavy weapons fire. Sparks kicked up as the concrete and metal shrieked and gangers popped apart in red sprays. I started to crawl, then scrambled into the hole where the corrugated siding used to be. After a few moments, the roar stopped but my ears still rang. I saw movement and aimed the 10mm at the hole.
Axeman strode in with the steaming chaingun in his hands and unzipped his mask to speak. He was still grinning like an idiot and stepped on a couple of the bodies as he came through the hole. I realized that if I had been any higher than a crouch, I’d be rat food also. I slowly holstered the pistol.
“Howzat for a resume?” he asked.
I gasped, spat out something that had crawled into my mouth, and nodded. He offered his hand and I took it to get up. The walls of the warehouse looked like a carved sardine can and the bodies were no longer recognizable as human. I looked at my “savior” and said the only thing I could to the maniac with the cannon.
“You got the job. C-call you in a day or so with some information.” I tried to keep my voice steady.
“Cool beans.” He said and strode off humming to some music in his headset. In the moist air, the barrels of his weapon left a fading smoky plume behind him. After a few moments, he was gone in the oily drizzle.
Hire one maniac to take out another? Maybe it would work if I set it up right.
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