Cutting through the throngs of people around Speakers Square, my mind snapped back to the "generous opportunity" the Cloak goon had offered me. Beyond hating to be leaned on, I couldn't shake the feeling that something just didn't quite add up. If CD wanted someone, why wouldn't they just run him down themselves? Isn't that what they do?
Some idiot dressed like Sour Blood (also an idiot) stumbled into me as I wove through the crowd. He was sloshed out of his skull and sort of spiraled past me into other people like a pinball in slow motion. I laughed to myself and crossed to the subway access. Some people can only deal with reality when fully sedated. Maybe it's better that way, provided the drugs don’t run out.
The answer came to me at the same time the subway car's smell did and both stunk. The assignment was a matter of simple economics. Why send out a handful of Darkfinders to bag a rogue when they could lean on a "loyal" operative? It made perfect sense since I didn't cost anything. Penny pinching fascist bastards.
But why me? Did my name come up in one of their "Might be a Subversive" searches? I tried not to think about the fact that they know everything about everyone, but wondered what drew their attention to me. Time to ratchet the paranoia down and relax. It was almost my stop and I didn't want to get mugged or miss it because of a case of nerves.
I hadn’t been aware of how foul the subway had been until I had left the car and was part way up the stairway to the street. I caught a whiff of it on my hand and winced. At least the rain would help to take some of the ‘musk’ off. I knew to not think about what the rain would leave on me in its place, but made a note to take a good shower anyway. There’s a reason that Angus calls it the "bleary funk" and I can’t say it hasn’t killed anyone.
Rain on Mort is both a pain in the ass and a comfort, depending solely upon your housing situation. Unlike a lot of my neighbors, I grew up in an apartment that didn’t leak too badly so it wasn’t that bad. At night, I could hear the rain on the roof when I went to bed and it made me feel relaxed and safe. Fortunately my childhood memories aren’t as screwy as Angus’s or as violent as Casper’s, or several of us would need to be locked up. I guess if they ever wanted to drive me nuts, they could lock me up in a room where I couldn’t hear it. Lets hope that I never give them the reason to give my sanity a test drive, since that would be the least that they would do.
The closest thing I came to trouble on the way home happened when Shivers with attitudes stopped me for a routine ID check. I was still smarting from the previous beating and was a little too cautious, so they got suspicious and gave me the 3rd degree. By the time they got bored with the standard 40 questions, I was soaked and miserable. It serves me right to think about how the rain isn’t a problem. I was happy to be inside the threshold of the building and took the stairs to dry off.
K’rth and I share an apartment across the hall from Obie, which is both a good and bad thing. The few times I’ve tried to bring a woman home, the Chagrin, being his bull-headed overprotective self, insists on questioning anyone he doesn’t recognize heading into my place. It doesn’t matter if I’m present or not, but I hate to see what he’d do to someone unescorted. At least I don’t have to pay him for the extra security.
Obie spotted me the moment I touched my door and tossed his open, probably scaring the hell out of his roommate again. I waved to the mousy I&I guy he lived with just before the lights went out. The Chagrin hugged me tight enough that I could barely breathe and couldn’t see anything except a wall of muscle. Newer Stormers like him don’t have a great deal of emotional experience and can be childish, clingy, and temperamental at the same time. Considering he’s a combat machine, the clingy side is as funny as it is painful but at least he hasn’t broken anything yet.
"You ok?" he said and patted my head like I was a child. I nodded and tried to slip free to unlock the door, but couldn’t budge. He must have gotten the idea and let go, but there was still barely enough room to fish out my keys. Personal distance is an alien concept to Chagrins, so he was still practically on top of me. His tusks occasionally tapped me on the top of the head as he talked.
"What happen? Dey said Cloak Div-is-in wan-ned to tok to you. We thought you was dead."
I opened the door and went in with the Chagrin on my heels. Just another 7 ½ foot puppy dog…
"Yeah, Cloak wanted to talk alright", I said. "They want me to do a job for them, free of charge of course."
His eyes lit up and he looked excited. It’s cruel to program these guys to think that anything SLA tells them to do is an honor. They can't tell the difference between a screw job and one that pays, but then they aren’t made to think much anyway. Obie’s a good guy, even if he is thick between the ears. Unfortunately, his poor pronunciation only encourages people to underestimate him.
K’rth came from his room with a relieved look, but showed more emotion than I usually expected. More than most, he knows what the N'tch'd kl'dk are capable of and was relieved to see me. He clasped my arms as his way of affection and smiled broadly without saying anything. After he let me go, I laid out the dossier and explained what Cloak wanted and how I didn’t have a choice. Before I even asked them, he and Obie were both in on it with me. I was grateful, but then I would have done the same for them.
"The hard part will be selling Casper." K’rth stated. He was right and I wasn’t looking forward to trying. Like she often said, she puts the capital ‘B’ in bitch.
"No use trying to sell her period, nobody would buy." I said with a straight face. After a moment he grinned and we both started laughing. It had been a hard day for both of us and the stress had taken its toll on our senses of humor. Obie stood there looking puzzled and not sure how to react. After a moment, he said "goonight" and left, closing the door behind him. A few moments later I decided he had the right idea, said "goonight" followed by more stressed out laughing, and went to my room. I lay down, looking at the ceiling and took stock of everything that hurt.
Tomorrow was going to be another day from hell and I would need my rest. I was about to try to sell a no paying bag job to a stick-up-the-ass megalomaniac Waster and then, with or without the squad, hunt down a rogue Op for Cloak. There had to be a lot more to this than the dossier said, but I guess that’s standard for Grey BPNs. I hoped that whatever they were holding back on wasn’t about to get me killed.
I listened to the rain tapping the outer wall and drifted into sleep.
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