Damon Cash is a picture perfect example of the spoiled rich kid living off daddy's credit and working harder at looking like he's working than actually working. He and Sara met a week ago and immediately hit it off. She said it was animal chemistry, but the survey says it was just her being easy. That's about all I have to say about him, beyond the fact that his rich daddy must have some big stock sunk in a hair product subsidiary. I wonder what this guy's scalp looks like?
Cash (what a stupid last name!) was waiting for us at the rendezvous point, wearing one of those pressed paper suits that's all the rage in New Paris these days. It was a conservative tan with creases sharp enough to draw blood and had been tailored and padded so that it made him look like he had the shoulders of a 313 and a set of balls to match. It was so ridiculous that a harsh bark slipped out the moment I saw him. Are all men that damn insecure? I hope not, but then you never know. You men out there aren't that insecure, are you? Don't answer that.
Another reason I don't like him, beyond the fact he's an insufferable asshole, is that he also thinks he's God's gift to womankind. The fucker actually told me once that it would only take one time to fix my "orientation." I had asked him what he meant, nodded like the stupid girl he thinks I am, then told him that maybe I'd find out once I dumped a few dozen I.Q. points and found a real man with actual balls. Things have been a little frosty since then, but he tolerates me mainly because I'm such a good friend to Ms "Come Fuck Me Hither". I wanted to puke when I saw him, but decided to save it for the time being. Maybe when I can at least get close enough to splatter him with it.
As we walked up, I somehow found myself in the lead but fortunately Sara decided to bounce past me to greet him. I turned my head as she delivered a kiss that could choke a Stormer and looked at the Shivers and sewer crew. They were all pretty appreciative of her assets and completely ignored the rest of us. Oh well, we might as all go home. Maybe she could talk them into doing this for her.
"Hello Em," Cash said once Sara helped him get the obstruction out of his windpipe and fully resuscitated him. Sometime her medic skills are absolutely amazing and I wonder if she was out to change her classification. "Great ta see ya!" he added and flashed me his grin.
I hate the way he looks at me - actually, "looks at me" isn't the right description. It's more like he devours every inch of me with his eyes just like a hungry rat in a child's nursery. If he knows how uncomfortable it makes me, it only drives him harder. What's that thing about forbidden fruit?
"You're looking wonderful today Em," he said. "Glad to see you've recovered from the injuries from the Pit last week."
I gave him a sneer, which is as close to a smile he'll get from me until he blows his brains out for my viewing pleasure. The injury he mentioned happened because Ms "Man-a-Minute" got too close to a handful of Frothers cranked up on PI. They wouldn't take no for an answer and dragged her happy ass into a restroom for a little tag team intimacy. I had a blonde moment (no, I'm not blonde) and went in to get her out. The only thing that pisses me off more than our resident SLA-grrl of the month on a sex odyssey is a bunch of assholes trying to force a little action on a female – any female. My jaw was still sore and my knuckles were still swollen from it, but I was happy that I gave more than I took before security broke it up. Those McLeod boys are like most men - they've got big egos, hard heads, and soft balls. What can I say – these boots were made for kicking under kilts. It's great aggression therapy.
"Aw shucks, I'm blushing," I said flatly without looking at him. My inner voice keeps telling me that he isn't worth the trouble of what I'd like to do, but I'm still wresting to drown it out. One of these days it's not going to be able to hold its high and mighty breath long enough and there'll be a whole lot fewer assholes in the world. I can't wait.
Sara smiled at me like a cat eating a mouse and put as much condescension in her voice as she could, sounding a lot like an adult scolding a child.
"Now Em," she started. "Play nice with others, otay? You need to be more appreciative of our 'financier'!"
Ooooo – "OUR Financier."
Someone needs to teach her that just because one is clear of puberty and capable of intercourse (daily? hourly?) does not mean you're a mature adult. Me thinks the whore doeth think too much. Maybe she should have her brain removed since it's only taking blood away from the parts the rest of the world thinks are important. Oops, that wasn't nice.
"Quit being so negative," she added. "Think happy thoughts and fight your way out from that dark cloud of negativity that's around you!"
I'd love to go to that mythical "happy place", think "happy thoughts", and get out from under my "dark cloud of negativity" like Ms Mind-and-Body-fuck wants, but that wasn't going to happen. As long as you're on Mort, the whole damn world is one big dark cloud and you only get out when you die. Not even the Saturday morning cartoons have happy endings, talk about "happy places" or "happy thoughts" so why should I? Like the man says, nobody gets out of here alive.
"Whatever, you dickbreath whore."
Uh-oh, I said that aloud. Bad girl, bad girl. Bad grrrrrrrrl…
"What did you say?" she asked and they both leaned forward slightly. They really hadn't heard me, or someone would be pissed.
"I said It's about to pour."
"Isn't it always?" Cash said as he looked up. Sara pulled back long enough to let hair gel boy pop an umbrella, then stepped back in to hook his arm. Aw, it was a photographic moment and the saccharine level was about to kill me. That was when Gere came up and shook his hand. Yet another reason I don't let Gere touch me – you never know where his hands have been and this showed he didn't really care.
"Good t'see ya!" Cash spouted and then flashed his smile at everyone again. He still hadn't said why he was here and inquiring minds wanted to know. Was he going to go down with us? I smirked when I started to visualize what would happen when he got his feet wet. Now, I would pay to see him in a sewer. Fenis must have had the same question and decided to be more tactful that I was.
"So, are you going down with us?"
"Me, not a chance!" Cash said with a good-humored smile. God, this guy was one polished asshole. "I'm here for the media coverage!"
"What media coverage?" Gere said, shoving forward and clipping me with a shoulder. "We're going down with 3rd Eye? We're going live?"
"That's right boys and girls, the ole Cashman has gotten you media coverage for this shindig."
SLA doesn't send media crews into sewers without a damn good reason and I had one question.
"Why?"
"Why?" he repeated then looked down, smoothed his hair back, and put what he thought was a tough look in his eye. Like I said, he was polished. He the mannerisms of a human being down to the point of becoming a living caricature. Cartoons have more empathy than he does, or at least they are easier to turn off.
"Because I take care of my favorite squad!" he said and Sara kissed him. I may be a lot of things – cynical, vengeful, a snappy dresser, but one thing I'm not is gullible. That comes from not being stupid enough to trust anyone.
"Why?" I repeated.
"What do you mean why?" he asked and held out his hands. If his movements and words were off cue by a fraction of a second more, I'd think I was watching one of those stupid recruiting films they show at Meny.
"I already told you. Because you're my favor-" he started, but I cut in.
"Bullshit, that's not good enough. Why do we have coverage?"
"Emily, behave!" Sara said, trying to intimidate me with her idea of a harsh stare. That routine might work with a kid, but anyone who calls me by my full first name and tells me to "behave" is not going to get what they expect.
"I want to know. And while you're at it, why doesn't the media coverage compensation show up on the BPN? I don't see a bonus on the sheet for it."
"Em! Leave him alone!" she said louder, stepping forward and putting her hand on my shoulders. Waving silicon bludgeons in my face isn't going to scare me, and someone I hate, er despise, putting hands on me isn't a good idea. I wondered why I didn't kill her a long time ago, but then the effort to get a decent housing assignment makes my head throb.
"No, Em's right," Fenis said. "What AREN'T you telling us?"
"Actually, I was getting ready to give you a full briefing before they popped the cover over there," he answered. "Emily, just beat me to the punch."
I'd rather beat him to a bloody pulp, grind his bones to make my bread and… I'm not going there.
"A Contract Killer named Undertow went in after a couple baddies earlier today and didn't come back out. His helmet cam got spammed early, so nobody knows where he is. It's your job to go in, track him down, and bring his body back if he's been neutralized. You'll get a recovery bonus for everything you find in addition to a JUST ADDED media bonus!"
Neutralized. That's such a cute, CORPORATE term for having your guts ripped out and tied around your neck while some Cloak Joe-boy gets his rocks off molesting you with power tools and feeding the parts to the swarm of rats and roaches gnawing on the stumps that used to hold your feet. Yeah, I've got a pretty vivid imagination sometimes. Maybe I should try to write a book or something?
"I want to introduce you to Phillips," Cash continued, pulling a young man forward for us to look at. "He's new to 3rd Eye but this is his thirteenth sortie-
"Actually sir, it's my third-" the 3rd eye toddler cut in. Did his parents know he was out after curfew?
"-whatever. He's an experienced camera operator who you will be taking with you. Any questions?"
"Do we have to protect him, or is he on his own?" Mitchell asked. He was probably getting the same bad feeling I was about this and didn't want the kid with us. I absolutely hate children.
"According to standard SA and 3rd Eye clauses in your contracts, you'll be responsible for protecting Mr. Phillips and his equipment."
"Wonderful." That response was from the entire squad with the exception of Sara who was already working the mojo with her eyes to bring the kid screaming into puberty. Hope his health plan was in place so he didn't have to pay for the antibiotics.
"S'all right, I'll protect you," Clipper said. The 313 always – ALWAYS toes the company line. Someday, I hope that gets it killed.
"Well, without further ado why don't we get you into this and start the party!"
I had heard enough to know that I didn't like this, but walked with everyone else over to the manhole cover and waited for the Shivers to pop it. When they did, there was a hiss of air and I wrinkled my nose.
"Good God," Gere said. "It smells like something rotten!"
"Yeah, but if you took a shower once a week, that might take care of the B.O."
"Bitch," he grumbled as I walked up to the hole and looked down at tine circle of light that cut into the sewer's gloom. Nothing moved, no bogeymen or monsters rushed us out of the shadows and I pulled on my respirator. Kneeling, I swept the channel below us with my flashlight. Since nothing moved or took a shot at me, I velcroed the lamp to my left wrist and turned around to climb in.
"Crazy
"Repeat that," I said but the coward didn't have the guts to. "I didn't think you had the balls to say it again. You fucking coward."
Gere glared but kept silent and I knew there was going to be trouble. At least I hoped so, but you can never tell. I really, REALLY hoped something fun happened this time.
"You're sure you want to go first?" Mitchell asked.
"I'm not afraid to die."
With that, I climbed about half way down and dropped into a crouch on the slick concrete below. I pulled my 10 Gauge and looked around, but the only thing moving was the water and a few dark scraps of trash. I dangled my gloved fingers into it, then wiped off the slime on the metal step rungs at about head level. The only sound was the click of my safety and the sound of a half-chewed arm clawing the concrete as it bobbed past. Without people, this place was absolutely placid and smelled like a flower shop, thanks to my scented respirator filter. I smiled broadly and breathed in, enjoying it. Always come prepared on a sewer crawl since it makes it much easier to find your "happy place" if you do.
I wasn't lying when I said that that I'm not afraid of dying and I never have been. A lot of folks waste effort on precautions to avoid croaking, uh – "neutralization" but it's a cosmic waste of time and resources. No matter how many vaccinations you take, how many times a day you brush your teeth, and how many times you look before you cross the street, you're life is always just about to end. Ole Mister Death has a contract out and baby, you're going down. There isn't shit you can do about it.
I waved up to the hole for the next person to come down and moved clear just as a giggle got loose.
"Em, you ok?" Fenis asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine. C'mon down."
Some ways to die are a lot more painful and more gruesome than others and it's a game of blackjack everyday to see what's going to get you in the end. Is it going to be something mundane like a heart attack or choking to death on some crappy Chang food at the local stand? Or are you going to get really innovative and kick off because some gangpuker hooks your new five hundred Uni coat into a subway train door and you kiss the partition when it jumps from zero to warp factor a zillion in three seconds flat? As for me, when I go I want it to be bloody, I want it to be creative, and I want it to be big. On second thought, maybe more creative than just big.
Gere came down next and nearly fell when he hit the slippery rungs. His brand new Blitzer fell from his grasp and smacked the concrete with a rattle next to me. My toe accidentally touched it and it spun away into the abyss of flowing water. Oh, clumsy me.
"Watch your step, big guy," I recommended and fought back a giggle.
Sometimes even big stupid badass operatives can find really creative ways to get themselves kacked. Maybe it's just the luck of the draw, other times they piss off the dealer.
Like the lady (my mother) once said. Life's a bitch. Fuck with one and you die.
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