Corroded Cells, page 5
part #2 of Cyberpunk Saga Series
“So, you know Jo?” he asked, his tongue moving leadenly in his mouth.
“I do,” Moss said, puffing up his shoulders in affected masculinity.
“And what could you want with me?” he asked, his head listing.
“A way out?” Moss said, playing it coy.
“Out of this existence? Go back to the street, anyone can help you there,” Ferret said, and slid the card back across the table, knocking into several half-drank drinks.
“No,” Moss said, letting a serious tone coat the word. “Out of this city.”
“Oh,” Ferret said, blinking his eyes to attention, seeming to see them for the first time. “That is a different prop—prep—thing altogether,” he fumbled.
“Jo said you were the man to talk to,” Moss tried stroking his ego. It worked, Ferret grinning and taking a sip from one of the glasses.
“I am!” he announced.
“Good,” Moss said.
“But isn’t cheap,” he furrowed his brows. He enunciated each word. “It is not cheap.”
“How not cheap?” Moss asked.
“Very,” he said with wicked pride.
“We’ve got a couple million,” Moss said, and the man laughed, some remaining drink sloshing from his mouth.
“That won’t get you across the street,” he explained, “and it’ll be more on the other side, depending on where you are going.”
“Does it matter where we are going?” Moss asked.
“Not to me,” Ferret told him.
“Good,” Moss said. “We are in a rush, is there anything we can do to lower the price?”
“You have finally asked a relevant question.” He pointed a finger on a hand, seemingly working independently. He ran his eyes over Ynna slowly. “Nothing this one can do for me,” he said with disgust. You could be pretty if you tried,” he told her before adding, “tried a lot.”
She clicked her tongue against her gritted teeth but said nothing. Moss was grateful Jo had warned them about his nature.
“What can we do?” Moss asked.
Ferret’s appraised them slowly, the bags beneath his eye a dark purple in the dim room. “Jo says you’re okay, then I suppose I can trust you with a favor. And if you fail, you die, and it costs me nothing.”
“Fine,” Moss said. “And doing this favor for you would pay our passage? We are in a rush.”
“Doesn’t pay to be in a hurry,” the man observed.
“Be that as it may—” Moss began, and Ferret looked upon him with derision.
“All right fancy pants, you can do this thing for me this very moment and leave tonight,” he said. “There is a man down the road who has begun taking my business. I need you to ask him to stop, if you take my meaning?”
“We are not assassins,” Moss said, and the Ferret raised his hands innocently.
“I simply asked you to make him stop,” he reiterated. “How you go about that is none of my business.”
“Right,” Moss said, ready to be done with this conversation. “Who’s the man?”
“Just down the way. Place called the Grindstone. The prick calls himself Powers, the fucking arrogance,” he slurred.
Moss turned, seeing the ire in Ynna’s face. “We’ll be back,” Moss told the man and pulled Ynna away.
They hurried through the crowd and moved quickly down the stairs. “Don’t have time for fucking side quests,” Ynna hissed.
“Should count ourselves lucky that he’s willing to bargain, we need the money,” Moss said.
“I know,” Ynna admitted, her voice still hard. “I don’t mind killing some prick.”
“Me neither,” Moss acknowledged, “but I didn’t want him to think it was that easy.”
“Smart,” Ynna said with a smile. “Wouldn’t mind putting a bullet in that asshole’s head, too.”
“We need him,” Moss said before adding, “for now.”
Ynna grinned.
Chapter 5
They checked on Gibbs who had shifted and was now stretched out across the back seats.
Ynna rolled her eyes at him and mocked, “So helpful.”
“Hopefully we won’t need the extra gun,” Moss said, shifting nervously.
“Let’s just get this shit over with,” Ynna said, slinging the rifle across her back, careful to close the door quietly. They hustled quickly down the road to the Grindstone, a seedy bar stinking of spilled beer. The bar was populated with bikers from the Hoplites MC, the telltale vests a dead giveaway. They approached the bar where a beefy, bald man looked at them with exhaustion.
“Place isn’t for you,” he told them.
“Here to see Powers,” Ynna said, ignoring his comment.
“Oh, yeah?” he asked, licking his lips. “And what do I get?”
“This one will give you a blow job,” Ynna said, hooking a thumb to Moss.
The bartender smirked. “Yeah, fuck you, too, then. Powers is in the back,” he said, pointing to a door flanked by two more bikers, watching a TV in the corner.
“Thanks,” Moss whispered sarcastically to Ynna as they stepped away.
“Gotta know how to talk to these dimwits,” she said with pride. Approaching the thugs, she said, “Here to see Powers.”
“What’s that to me?” one said, turning his tribal tattoo covered face to them.
“Nothing, I guess,” she said and stepped right passed him, swinging the door open.
“Hey!” the other shouted and grabbed her by the wrist. She countered him in a flash, spinning his arm and pressing him to the wall as the man in the office looked up from a screen in his desk.
Moss raised his hands and spoke to the man, feeling the press of a gun barrel against his temple, “Powers, we would like a word.”
The man behind the desk stood, the suit he wore stretched tight from the musculature beneath. He had a long, pointed mustache and wore sunglasses, though the room was poorly lit.
“Let them enter,” he ordered the guards and Moss felt the gun pull away as Ynna loosened her grip. They stepped in and Powers waved a hand, the door swinging closed behind them at his command. It was just the three of them in the room now, and Moss considered pulling his Kingfisher and being done with it before realizing how foolish a move that would be.
“We hear you’re a man on the rise,” Moss ingratiated. Ynna shot him a quizzical look but played along.
“The type of man who can get things done,” she added.
“You heard right, though you have me at a loss, I don’t normally admit strangers,” he said, walking to them with an extended hand.
“Che and Marley,” Moss said, and they all shook hands with cautious courtesy.
“And I presume there is something I can do for you?” he suggested.
“Something we can do for you,” Ynna said, picking up on Moss’s plan.
“Even better,” he said, clapping his hands.
“Comes with a price,” Moss added.
“Everything comes with a price,” Powers said thoughtfully. Moss noticed the image on the screen in the desk—full-body scans of both he and Ynna with the augments and mods highlighted. He saw his mechanical legs which looked real to the naked eye but appeared clearly in the scan and his neural implant at the base of his skull. It was larger than he realized wrapping in and around his brain. Ynna was a mess of upgrades, different spots glowing all over the scan.
“We can work out an exchange perhaps?” Ynna suggested.
“Depends both on what you have and what you want,” Powers said, all business. “What is it that you want?”
“Passage to the outside,” Moss said.
“Now that, I can provide,” Powers said with a crocodile smile, displaying a mouth of gold-coated teeth. “And what is it that you can offer me?”
Moss lowered his voice ominously. “A warning.”
“If it’s about that fucking badger, I already know,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“You know he wants you dead?” Ynna pressed.
“Him among many,” Powers said, disappointment in his tone. “I got excited when you made short work of the paid help, but you obviously have nothing.”
Ynna crossed her arms and planted her feet. “We were asked to kill you.”
“But you didn’t and couldn’t,” he said, pulling his nose up at the bridge, revealing an implanted mesh in the nostrils. “If you so much as thought about raising a weapon in here this room would fill with a neurotoxic gas so quickly you would be bleeding from your eyes before you could even swing that thing from your back. I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing, truly.”
Ynna offered in a desperate gambit. “What if we do him?”
Powers’ lip turned up slightly. “That might be worth something, though a double-cross is so patently obvious,” he said. “And you wouldn’t make it out of the Gem alive. Half those patrons are guards.”
“That’s it! So obvious,” Ynna said, slapping Moss’s shoulder.
“And if we could?” Moss asked.
“You kill that sack, and you’ll have your passage and a new friend,” he offered. “Something tells me you would love nothing more,” he said to Ynna. “But he will be expecting it.”
Moss and Ynna left the Grindstone with a new goal.
“Think Jo will be pissed?” Moss asked.
“Doubt it,” Ynna replied. “Whatever she gets from him, she can get from Powers. With our help and Hoplite allies, he’ll be running the Burg in no time. That can only make Jo’s life easier. Plus, this is all assuming the second part.”
“Oh, right, the other bit,” Moss chuckled as they approached the van. Ynna opened the rear passenger door, Gibbs’ head flopping out before he woke up with a start.
“Oh, man,” he said, rubbing his neck. “What’s up? I miss anything?”
“We met with Jo’s contact, and now we need to kill him,” Ynna explained.
“He deserve it?” Gibbs asked.
“Does it matter? He’s our key to rescuing our friends from torture and death,” Ynna said.
“Pretty sure he’s a kingpin surrounded by thugs who plague these streets,” Moss explained.
“Fine,” Gibbs said, grabbing his rifle box. “What’s the plan?”
“Moss is gonna take on the two bottom floors, and I’m going to deal with Ferret. You’ll be our eyes and make sure nothing sneaks up on us,” Ynna explained.
“Still keep that taser on you?” Moss asked, and it was in his hand in a moment.
“Two floors?” Gibbs asked dubiously.
Moss shot him a coy smile.
They approached the drudge bouncer, and it groaned and rolled its robotic head impatiently.
“You’re back?” it asked.
“We missed you.” Ynna chuckled, pressing her cybernetic hand to the machine, one of her eyes going black. The machine stuttered and shook slightly. “We could really use Patchwork right about now,” she muttered as she worked the hack on the drudge. Moss and Gibbs stood watch; a gaggle of young people approached.
“Is there, like, a cover charge?” one girl asked. The group of one guy and three girls were dressed for dancing and seemed not to notice what was happening.
“Nope, go on in,” Gibbs said with a wave of his hand.
“Great,” she said, and as they moved passed, one turned back to watch for a moment.
“They don’t give repairmen uniforms anymore?” She giggled in a suggestively superior tone.
“We’re freelance,” Moss told her and waved them on as Gibbs had. They moved on, but he turned to Ynna. “Running short on time,” he said.
“These things are designed not to be hacked,” Ynna snarled.
“It’s just—” Moss began.
“It’ll take as long as it takes,” Gibbs interrupted.
“Exactly,” Ynna agreed thankfully.
Moss ordered, “Get up to a roof and find a good vantage point.”
Gibbs turned quickly to find a way up one of the nearby buildings. An older man approached them cautiously.
“Good evening,” he said to Moss, glancing over to Ynna.
“Evening,” Moss said graciously.
“Can you tell me if this is where the local brew fest is taking place?” he asked, stroking a well-trimmed beard.
“It is. First floor,” Moss guessed with confidence. The man did not budge.
“And can you tell me where the hops were grown on any of the particular beers?” he asked. He seemed kind and simply curious, but Moss was not in the mood, worried he might get suspicious if he stood there too long.
“All the information regarding the brews will be prominently displayed inside,” Moss said, pointing.
“And how much to enter?” he asked.
“Our drudge is offline for maintenance so you can simply head on in,” Moss said, pointing a second time and hearing the annoyance in his own voice.
“Lucky timing for me,” the man said and went inside.
“Seriously!” Moss barked.
“I’m getting close,” Ynna snapped.
“They’re going to have to start paying me if I do this much longer,” Moss said.
“Command input?” the drudge said, and Ynna commanded the machine through the nodes in her fingertips.
Synchronization complete, Moss heard through his implant. His brain began receiving data from the machine as it began walking into the bar.
“This was smart,” Ynna observed.
“Thanks, stole the idea from the desk—full-body scan on entry,” he said.
She nodded. “I noticed that, too.”
“You’ve got a lot of augs,” Moss noted.
“You’re one to talk! You’re all augment from the knee down,” Ynna cried, following the drudge. “Anyway, we can discuss the line between man and machine when we get out of here with our hides.”
“You mean if we get out of this,” Moss corrected, and Ynna turned back with a devilish grin.
She chuckled. “Nah, we’ve gotten out of worse.”
Moss saw clean scans as they passed the first few floors and he stopped on the fifth, getting the readout of the concealed weapons in his mind.
“I’ll wait,” he told Ynna who nodded.
“Good luck,” she said with a two-finger salute. Moss walked out to the dancefloor, gripping his Kingfisher under his coat. He clicked it over to non-lethal. He listened, hearing the sound of the drudge’s heavy footfalls in his mind. They stopped at the top of the stairs, the drudge waiting just out of sight as commanded. It’s microphone still able to pick up the conversation but filtering out the dance music.
I have no reports of anything noteworthy down the street, Moss heard Ferret say.
We did it quietly, Ynna replied.
And your handler, where’s he? Ferret condescended.
Didn’t make it, Ynna explained.
So, a ticket for one then? Ferret asked. Providing you have proof of the deed being done.
Moss knew this was his moment. He stepped forward and pressed his weapon into the back of one of the armed dancers and pulled the trigger. The electric shock coursed through the man and he fell to the floor, vibrating wildly.
“I think he’s overdosed,” Moss shouted over the music, and everyone around moved aside, Moss hiding among the throng.
“Shit,” he heard another of the guards say as they rushed to his aid. “Make some room!” He shouted, gesturing madly for the dancers to disperse. Moss heard the gunshot from above, and people began to shout and run for the exits. The guards were all gathered around their fallen comrade, looking up in shock as Moss pulled his weapon.
He fired.
It was almost too easy with them all gathered in shock. Two hit the floor before the others got wise to what was happening. The flashing lights, pounding beat, and confusion gave Moss cover to move as the three remaining guards pulled their weapons. One pointed a gun at the fleeing crowd, poised to take them all out as long as it meant killing Moss as well.
“Shit,” Moss exclaimed, firing his weapon at the guard and separating from the mob of bodies. The guard fell as Moss ducked behind a table which shattered into pieces as the other two opened fire on him. He kept moving, allowing his weapon to cool.
Glass rained down on him as the two guards moved closer. He checked his battery. Enough for one more shot. He got to his knees and dashed for the next table, bullets whizzing around him and exploding the floor and glass wall beyond him. He felt hot pain as a bullet grazed his head.
He smelled blood and singed hair.
The gunfire stopped as the two hid behind another table while they reloaded. Moss moved to another table while they were distracted, looking at the battery. Still only enough for one shot.
He remembered standing with Stan before a weapon rack, anything he could want on offer.
“Want to upgrade?” Stan had asked. Moss had simply shaken his head, happy to use the weapon which had gotten him that far. He regretted that decision now. If he got out of this alive, he would most certainly upgrade to a better weapon, or at least something with better battery life. The two guards popped up, trying to get a fix on Moss.
He pulled the trigger, and the blue light zipped across the room, sending the guard to the floor while the other wheeled to take aim. As he raised his weapon, his neck burst open with a spray of blood as a massive round from Gibbs’ rifle passed through him. He clutched at his throat, blood cascading down his body.
Moss gave a thumbs up to the window as he ran upstairs.
The next floor was too quiet. The drudge stood like a statue, one of Ferret’s henchmen no doubt having used a kill switch on it when they realized was happening.
Moss saw bodies littering the floor. The music had stopped, the rhythmic lights flashing to silence. Ferret lay dead in his chair. From behind the DJ booth, a man stepped out with a gloved hand cupped over Ynna’s mouth and a pistol to her head.
He was young, a mere child, and looked terrified. Moss knew a wrong move could get her killed. He was aligned with the window such that a shot from Gibbs would hit Ynna as well. Moss figured the kid’s glove had a transmission dampener so they could not communicate without speaking or she would have warned him. Moss squared his shoulders, aiming the pistol.
