The cold rain stung the top of my head and my neck like cold buckshot as I walked between rows of traffic to cross the street. Between the fear and the cool air, my throat was tight, making my already ragged breathing shallow and asthmatic. I've never known what doom felt like until now and my growing dread making it hard to even walk.
When I crossed under the eave of the Gaffold building, I thought of the chorus of angels from Gael's apartment singing and wondered if I'd hear the real thing soon. What had I done wrong? It had to be something subtle that I missed and now their little game was over. I looked upwards and saw leering gargoyles cloaked in curtains of rain grinning down at me. At least someone was going to enjoy the show.
A doorman moved behind the murk of the door's tinted glass and swung it open for me with a flourish. As I stepped onto the crisp emerald carpet, cool scented air washed across my face and I broke out in goose bumps. The artificial breeze smelled like dead flowers and I shuddered when I realized that it was the same scent as at my Mother's funeral. I shook it off and stepped out of the foyer into the amber light.
The lobby resembled the one in Gael's building, but was as full as the opposite was empty. Scores of people in designer formal wear mingled around a Parisian open-air style restaurant and its huge Classical fountain. I was so obviously out of place that the maitre'd looked at my casual dress and ID and grimaced.
"Are you with 'someone' Operative Cole SCL 8.2 or are you simply lost?" he asked. He spat my Skull level at me like he'd swallowed a roach.
"I'm meeting someone. Thanks." I said and started past him, but he stepped into my path and put his hand on my chest. As our eyes met, I felt irritation burning the back of my throat. K'rth says I can wear "threat" like a coat and am a fine product of my violent training. That's probably an insult, but it's true and the man decided to step out of my way.
"Is there someone I can page for you?" he asked in a slightly less aloof tone.
"Nobody who'd listen," I said as I walked into the lobby. .
I absently realized that some of the patrons were staring and making remarks, like they were part of a clique. That was probably how they amused themselves, but I let it run off since I was more concerned with my watch. It said I had about two minutes of life left, provided Cloak was punctual.
The lobby's colors and sounds were muted and surreal, almost like I was in a waking dream. Above me, the rotation of the ornate ceiling fans matched my heartbeat and ticked out a cadence like a swinging axe. Distant laughter and soft conversations flowed around me, but they were so muffled that I couldn't make them out and rubbed my ears. Now the watch said that I had a minute and a half left and a cold numbness seeped upwards from my feet.
I thought about the futility of my situation and managed a half laugh that died in my throat. I always expected – hoped that is -that I'd die too quickly and too hard to see my life flash before my eyes. That was when everything became a slideshow, where flashes of images and unwelcome shards of memory ran in my mind…
…I remembered the time my Father beat the hell out of me because I got between him and my Mother, and when my Wah Chang big brother Tony paid him back for it. I also saw my ninth birthday, when my Mother's body bag was hoisted away in the black rain and the 313 that held me back and tried to comfort me. The rain smelled like smoke and blood. My eyes began to sting…
…And I saw Keith in his uniform, as he was proudly packing to go offworld and kill Darknight. He was always running from something and his eyes were bitter and guilty as he said goodbye to me. I wonder if he blamed himself for what I was in for. I chewed my lip and shuffled my feet, aware of the bile rising in my throat.
…Then I saw myself alone trying to keep my Father from drinking himself to death and wishing he were dead at the same time. Some of these memories had jagged edges and they were hooked into old wounds. I wiped at tears with the side of my hand and turned my back to the restaurant's patrons. Nobody said that life was ever fair, but it's something you always hope for…
… I thought about the first girl I was ever with and how embarrassed I was when I almost didn't get to loose my virginity. That brought another harsh laugh and a smile and I pretended to look at the paintings on the wall. Then there were images of my first New Year in Changtown when I got my colors and I saw the face of the first guy I ever beat senseless for no good reason. He had crossed the street in the wrong place and it was my turn to prove I was a man…
…Then I remembered the only letter I ever got from Keith as he was about to hit Dante and the official letter saying we'd lost him. I wondered if Cloak sent an official letter when they killed you…
Shaking my head, I tried to toss the images out of my head but more swarmed into my face like flies. Why the hell couldn't we just get this over with? I didn't want to think about my mortality.
…I remember the first time I met K'rth and I mangled what I thought was a Shaktar greeting. He laughed his ass off at me and has never let me live it down. Thank God he's forgiving, considering what I accidentally said to him…
…Then I remember the time I tried to comfort Obie over the death of his favorite Contract Killer. He cracked three of my ribs cracked when really started to bawl and hugged me. It took Angus and K'rth to pry him off before I drowned in the deluge of his tears…
…I remembered the first time I met Gael, half a year ago and tonight's ruined chance for something more. That spun me back into the present and I tried to center myself. Somewhere in the back of my mind, the chorus of angels was singing again and I remembered what Gael said about clarity. I'm sure you get a lot of clarity when they put a bullet through your brain and everything flashes to white…
Turning back to the crowd, I let my breath out and allowed what K'rth calls "Mshdtt-kchtf" – the" still breath before death" come over me. They could kill me, but damned if I was going to go down without a fight. When I saw him coming, I quietly popped the snap on my Blitzer and put my back to the wall.
He was a small guy in a white waiter's jacket with black pants, slicked back hair, and soft features. Weaving his way through the gauntlet of tables, he met my eyes and I knew he was coming to me. I couldn't help but think that he looked too young to be a killer, but then I've been told that too. He stopped with a click of his heals and a slight bow, just out of arm's reach.
"Monsieur ? Excusez moi," he said.
"Yes?" I hoped he didn't go much into Parisian since I could barely say hello.
"Etes vous l'opératif Alex Cole ?"he asked. I heard my name, so I nodded.
"Vos convives vous attendent. Par ici je vous pris, monsieur," he said and I was completely lost. I shrugged and stared at him.
With a disgusted look, he let out his breath and changed to perfect Killian with a snotty uptown Mort accent. "Your party is waiting for you. This way, operative."
I followed him around the huge fountain and past elegantly set tables covered with crystal utensils and white cotton cloth. Every conversation halted as I got near, reminding me again that I was out of my element. I wondered what they'd say if they knew I was a dead man.
Suddenly something hard gripped my shoulder and a wave of cold washed down my spine. It stole my breath and numbed my gun hand, and I froze when I saw what it was. It was an abomination out of some madman's nightmare and I couldn't move.
It stood as tall as I did on two legs and had a squat body like a barrel, with a wide mouth full of square, razor-like teeth. Its limbs were wide and thick, covered with the same pulsing black veins that wrapped its torso. Another appendage stretched from its right shoulder and turned under its own power to regard me. It sprouted from a throbbing pus-filled sac and opened a smaller toothed maw with a low wet hiss. I had never been this close to a Necanthrope before and would have run if I weren't frozen in place. The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees around me and I could barely shiver.
"Tomorrow is your judgment Alex, so prepare," it said in a raspy whisper. "Go as a warrior."
With that, it let me go and I recoiled backward into a waiter with a tray. There was a crash and yelling, but I ignored it and stared at the empty space where the creature had stood. Did that just happen or was I insane? Feeling returned to my arm like a splash of hot tea and I flexed my hand to get the blood flowing again. Through the cobwebs in my mind, I heard the waiter alternate yelling at me and apologizing to the guests. Pushing past him, I turned back to my guide.
"Let's get this over with," I said.
"This way."
He led me to the patio where a handful of people gathered to admire a panoramic view of Mort Central. Considering that we were on ground level and couldn't have seen the sky even if we were outside, I knew it was only a nice picture. All the patrons except one looked at me and left quickly, with the waiter dimming the lights and closing the double French doors behind him. Suddenly, the air was stagnant and cold, and a chill ran across my shoulders and down the base of my neck. The scent of dead flowers was stronger here and I felt myself cringing.
The man turned toward me and I recognized him from the interrogation at Cloak Div. He was wearing a conservative dark suit with an expensive gray overcoat and silver rimmed spectacles. His skin condition hadn't improved and with his bald head, looked even more like a corpse. When he smiled, he like the star of one of those horror flicks with the emaciated pointy-eared vampires.
"Good evening Operative," he started. "And good work with the safe house sweep."
When I didn't speak, he looked back to the panorama. I felt the air move behind me and glanced back to see that a trio of Darkfinders had somehow materialized from the shadows. Where in hell did they come from? There was no way I couldn't have missed them…
"If we wanted you terminated, you would have been dead within moments of the order. You should relax and enjoy the view."
"It's not real and I'm not much for art."
He turned around with an amused look on his face, but the eyes were sad.
"A pity. So little here is real, Alex - may I call you Alex?" he asked.
"I would prefer that you call me Co-"
"As I was saying Alex - so few things are real and so many are but hollow shells, but everything… Everything is art. Mr. Slayer gave you the opportunity to behold his world and wants you to revel within his vision. A remarkably generous gift!"
I wished he'd get to the point. If they weren't going to terminate me, what did they want? He must enjoy terrorizing me and he was damn good at it.
"What do you want? You didn't order me here just to look at this pict-"
"A 'Rendering', Alex. It's a live video 'Rendering' of Mort Central, but no I didn't. We realize that you may require a bit of motivation to complete your obligation and wanted to ensure you that your loyalty has been recognized and is duly rewarded."
"What do you mean?" I asked. I hated this doublespeak and the three Cloak soldiers behind me were making me more than nervous. The fact that I couldn't watch them and him at the same time was an aggravation, but I refused to give him the pleasure of putting my back to a wall. There was no way I would cower in a corner since I could tremble just fine where I stood.
He smiled and held out his hand. "Give me your ID."
I looked at him, and then slowly pulled my ID from its wallet. He took it and nodded, then put it into a pocket.
"You're stripping me?"
"By no means. Congratulations and keep up the good work," he said and handed me a different ID. The SCL was listed as 7 Instead of the 8.2 – an massive promotion. I stared at him with an open mouth, and then my paranoia kicked in. I had never heard of anyone getting that sort of promotion before and wanted to know why. In some ways, it scared me more than the Darkfinders waiting behind me.
"SCL 7?" I asked and he nodded. "What about K'rth? He was with me and is on the BPN."
"Your reptilian associate has received a duly deserved adjustment and will be informed in due time."
"Ok, then I want some answers," I started. Relief washed over me like a wave and flushed away the terror, leaving me confident enough to ask questions.
"What in the Hell have you sent me after?" I asked, but he didn't respond. "And why did I get this promotion?"
He smiled absently and turned back to the view of Mort. He was standing close enough to the display that I could see the reflection of the pyramid in his glasses and the golden color tinted his already jaundiced skin. The man basked in the warm light, but then his face twisted in irritation. He pulled a white handkerchief and wiped at the "rendering", then smiled smugly and put it away.
"Those who do as he asks are rewarded. Those who do not are punished."
The loyalty spiel didn't do anything for me and I stepped closer, seeing my reflection next to his in the "rendering". Even though the Darkfinders hadn't moved, I felt like they were crowding in behind me and could feel their stares from across the room.
"Why did you pick me for this? Why send an operative to bag Bayer when you could send these guys?"
There was a long pause, and then he repeated something similar to what he had said when I first met him. The tone of his voice sounded like he was repeating something basic to a small child and his eyes looked disappointed.
"Given time it will be clear and you'll understand."
I stared at him with frustration, and slowly let my breath out. He had just scared the hell out of me because he wanted to save intracompany postage? Maybe he wanted to see what I thought about the "rendering" and play with my mind some more. It probably gave him a real rise to have me jump through hoops and my temper had risen again, but there was nothing I could do about it.
"Thank you for your prompt arrival Alex, it is appreciated. In addition, I want to tell you that you're on the right track to finding your quarry. You may go now."
He wasn't going to give me any answers so I looked behind me and turned. Swallowing, I realized I had to walk between two Darkfinders to get to the door. I stifled my fear and carefully squeezed sideways to avoid touching them. When I got to the doors, I swung them open and felt warm light and fresh air pour in. I gasped like a drowning man and the man spoke again, stopping me short.
"You certainly have a lovely Ebon friend," he said and turned back to his 'rendering.' "Enjoy the remainder of your evening Alex because a new day starts at midnight."
That put the fear back into me and I walked into the brightness of the restaurant with my mind spinning. A huge promotion as encouragement followed by a threat to someone who wasn't part of this put me on edge and I dropped my head to cut through the crowd. Tracing the shortest path between tables the door, I began to feet the weight of stares and something ugly boiled up within me.
Every table was filled with beautiful people who became quiet and stared until I was nearly out of earshot, and then began making snide comments just loud enough for me to hear. I felt my anger swelling and gritted my teeth before I said or did something that ruined my career. These arrogant, self-absorbed people didn't have the guts to say anything to my face and it pissed me off.
These "people" were more alien to me than the bald man, or even the Necanthrope from earlier this evening. From their attitudes, I was sure that they would never know what it was to be alive – to know what danger, or passion, or true fear felt like. They had the same depth as the damn "Rendering" on the patio and would never see the monsters that crept around them in Mort's shadows.
As I started to exit the café, a couple of young men who looked like they had just dropped in from Head Office stepped into my way. They playfully blocked my path and acted like they didn't see me, just like the stupid children they really were. It took every bit of control I had not to put them into the fountain and I chose a longer route to the exit. If I hadn't gotten clear, I knew there would have been a termination warrant on my head within minutes. As I passed the fountain, I glanced back and saw them and their dates laughing, toasting their cleverness as their bodyguards watched with disinterest. Blackness welled up in me again, strengthened by the jerking by Cloak and the general crap of the evening. I stopped and thought seriously about going back, but knew that it wasn't worth it. I made my feet move and hit the door at a steady walk.
Those people had wrapped themselves in a delusion, surrounded with killers they thought were their protectors and were happily ignorant to the actual danger they were in. All it would take is one word from a bald man in the shadows to have them raped, gutted, and cooked on a skewer and daddy couldn't save them. If any of them came close to sensing it, they laughed, complimented themselves, and drowned it with liquor. They had the permanence of reflections in rain.
Intangible and without purpose, they were hollow in every way and I hated them for it.
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