Chapter 5, Part 8

bleakly

I had four or five drinks in me and had laid out about the same number of random thugs to hilariously little effect. I’d made a big enough show of promoting my unique brand of sleuthery at that point, so I figured it was time to call Otto’s bluff and see what the hell he was after.

So. Let’s recap.

Otto had shown me two pieces of footage. In one of ‘em, some dumb-lookin’ dudes stole something officially nonexistent (read: insanely valuable) from an ultra-high-profile security outfit without setting off a single alarm.

In another scene, they’re busting an ATM. Only thing is, in that scene, they’ve got a faint, fuzzy, blue digital aura: the hallmark of faked footage.

It was a lucky thing for me that as an adolescent I used to constantly search for nude holography of famous actresses, or else I’d never be an expert at telling real footage from the computer-edited kind.

Back to the stooges. Clearly they’ve got some assistance pulling off a big heist. Otto’s showing me altered video. It didn’t take a genius to put together what was actually going on… or at least the outlines.

I stepped off the conveyor sidewalk and strolled around to the side entrance of the warehouse my handheld had directed me to. I mean, come on. The front door was gonna be locked, bugged, guarded anyway.

I kicked in the rustiest door in sight– which was, coincidentally, the only side door– and found myself immersed in an almost-palpable darkness. I felt through my coat pockets for my flashlight. I DID have a flashlight, right? Wait, don’t I have one integrated on my handhel–

Suddenly, all my senses prickled and a tingle went through my body. I wasn’t alone.

To be perfectly fair in my description of my own sleuth-senses and what-not, I should probably include the following details: the tingling I was experiencing was accompanied by a cameo appearance of my buddies Steve and Hector, as well as a sharp blow to the back of my head.

In response, I hissed, “FUCK!!!” 

I heard a noncommittal sound behind me and decided to allow my reflexes to sort things out while I sulked over how many braincells I’d lost in the last few weeks and the ratio of said braincells I’d lost in the course of painful rather than pleasurable activities.

A few moments later, I took the controls back from my reflexes. My reflexes had found the flashlight attachment on my handheld (Jeez, guys, couldn’t you have just told me where the damn thing was?) and placed the barrel of my sixty-shooter between the teeth of a terrified-looking teenager at whose feet was a short length of aluminum pipe.

Oh, I thought. New guy. 

I rubbed my face with the hand that wasn’t busy tickling the kid’s tonsils.

“Okay, look, kid. Here’s- you gotta know some things.” I clipped the handheld to my coat’s collar so that its beam was still aimed in the general vicinity of the kid’s face.

He was shaking and wide-eyed. Pupils were a little differently focused- he might’ve been into some riprun or other such crap. His hands were slightly above his head, but it didn’t look like he had full control of his fingers.

“All right, look.” Using my free hand, I started going through the kid’s pockets. “Life ain’t like the holoshows. You punch someone real good in the face, maybe you slug ‘em in the back of the head with a bit of pipe, maybe they’ll be in enough pain they go down right then.” Wallet was mostly empty, but what was there would get me a couple beers. “But if they’re a hardcore motherfucker, they won’t. So,  you want to use something like this–” I pulled the small laser pistol from the back of his waistband– “first so that you don’t wind up in an uncomfortable situation like this.” I looked at the kid’s heater. It was not what I was expecting- it was a surgical-grade laser overclocked to accept a weapons-grade power cell, all in a custom housing. Nice bit of work and entirely untraceable. “Thing’d probably put a neat hole the size of a nickel in somebody. Hm.” 

I test-fired it through the kid’s left kneecap. It did indeed leave a neat hole the size of a nickel, and it didn’t leave him bleeding, either. I could probably sell the thing and get enough booze to last me a couple days.

I made it a personal policy of mine not to kill the younger and dumber people who enter the dark world I inhabit. The reasoning is that the lower I allow the general level of competence to drop, the better I’ll seem. Also, it helps to build the brand if you leave ‘em broken and weeping for mercy. If you leave no survivors, nobody gets to tell of you in hushed whispers.

Especially with my brand-new headache, I’d have much preferred a hushed whisper to the screams the kid had decided to go with at that moment, but what can you do.

———————————

jacobson

I disembarked the bus outside the theatre and crossed the street. A vehicle with a single working headlight barreled past mere inches from me and sped off into the night; my heart’s rhythm duly noted the event as dangerous, but it seemed an isolated event. 

The theatre was much as I’d remembered it. The paint that had been brilliant gold was peeling in places and painted over in others, the dapper lad in the box office had been replaced with a bored teenage girl, and the carpet had been replaced with a putrid green thing of some sort– but somehow it still sparkled, as if its old glory could actually shine through the muck of this modern era.

I bought my ticket and settled in for the show. This was more difficult than one might think at first- I was wearing a far thicker coat than the weather demanded, and it was filled with a few simple tools to assist me in gaining a measure of invisibility for my next movements.

I could feel no eyes burning in the back of my head. I felt no shiver of apprehension. But still I knew that any member of the audience could well be one of City’s men, sent to prevent my progress or silence me if I came too close to some ugly truth.

The play was Hamlet; the actors were very talented, for these modern times. I regretted that I would need to miss the denoument. 

I quietly excused myself to the Gentlemen’s room. This was a sad, small affair that had sustained far too much abuse for a modest theatre’s facilities. Still, it was a quiet spot, and if I still possessed the required faculties–

In one motion, I shed the coat, brushed on contact lenses and a fake moustache, and turned my vest inside-out. I pushed my wadded coat through the small window slot and into the outside alley.

Four minutes later I left through a forgotten back exit and reclaimed my coat. Five minutes later I boarded a bus bound for downtown.

It wasn’t a very flashy or daring maneuver, but it meant that  if I was cautious, I could begin searching in earnest… and, with luck, I’d make Cornelius City pay.

It was the only honorable option.