Corroded Cells, page 6
part #2 of Cyberpunk Saga Series
The boy looked at him with terror, but demanded, “Put it down.”
“Your boss is dead, don’t throw your life away for nothing,” Moss pleaded.
“My boss has bosses, I’ll be the man if I bring you assholes in,” his voice cracked as he spoke.
“Put your weapon down and just walk out,” Moss said, sliding his body to the side. Ynna shifted in tandem, and the kid readjusted, pointing his weapon at Moss. Ynna did not wait for the dance to continue so Gibbs could align his shot, quickly bustling from his one arm grip and pulling his other down over her shoulder. His arm cracked, and he screamed out as she pulled the pistol free. She wheeled and kicked him to the ground, pointing his gun at him.
He held up a hand. “Please, you’re on camera anyway, killing me gets you nothing,” he pleaded, already beginning to cry.
Ynna loomed over him. “But it will feel good.”
“Momma, I’m sorry,” he cried out into the ether.
Ynna lowered her weapon. “It’s too ugly,” she said, turning to Moss. “We’re supposed to be the good guys.”
Moss agreed, stepping forward and firing a non-lethal. Amidst all this carnage, he still liked to think of himself as good.
“Plus, Gibbs wouldn’t like it,” she added. “He’s a delicate flower.”
“Should see what he did to the guy downstairs,” Moss said as they rushed toward the exit. They knew Carcer didn’t care about this district, but a bloodbath might draw their attention. “How the hell did he get you?” Moss asked.
“One of these guys was a fucking ninja or something. Shot him as he roundhoused me in the face, but I was seeing stars long enough for that kid to grab me. You men are all the fucking same,” she bristled. “Grazed my tit in the struggle and I swear he had a hardon.”
“Yeah, we’re all pretty gross,” Moss agreed as they rushed down the now abandoned stairs.
“Issy ever talk to you about fucking a robo version of her?” Ynna asked.
Moss felt his face flush. “Gibbs told you?” he hollered in annoyance out on the street.
She wheeled on him with a broad smile and said, “He did!”
“Can’t trust him for anything,” Moss groused.
“Nope! So, did you?” she pressed, the side of her face red and likely to bruise badly. She was nearly skipping backward as they walked.
“No,” Moss admitted, “but I think she knows.”
“Oh, shit!” Ynna exclaimed, pushing Moss playfully on the shoulder before slinging her rifle over her back.
Gibbs came running over, red-faced and panting.
“You fucking told her?” Moss shouted.
“Told her what? Is now really the time?” Gibbs gasped, confused and seemingly worried.
“A time will come,” Moss said ominously. “But we need to clear out.”
“You guys get anything off the bodies? Weapons or money or anything?” Gibbs asked as they made their way down the few doors. The street was empty now, everyone cowering in their homes. The sound of gunplay was familiar to the people of the Burg, and they knew better than to get involved.
“We didn’t loot them,” Ynna said. “We mostly were trying to get out alive.”
“Fine,” Gibbs allowed. “But next time, try to get us some supplies. We’re destitute out here.”
“Hopefully, there won’t be a next time,” Moss said.
“There is always a next time,” Ynna intoned.
Chapter 6
They stood before Powers, who was grinning with surprise.
“Where have you three been all my life?” he asked with excitement. “Efficiency like this, I could have taken over the whole neighborhood years ago!”
“We are good at some things,” Moss allowed.
“Don’t be so modest,” he said. “You did in an hour what the idiots outside couldn’t plan in a year. And I’ve been trying, I’ll tell you that.”
The adrenaline had worn off, and Moss was now too tired for this man’s enthusiasm.
“You caught us at a desperate time is all,” said Ynna modestly, but her pride showed through.
“Lucky for me,” Powers said.
“One of them mentioned that Ferret had bosses who would be none too pleased,” Moss led.
“No doubt, no doubt,” Powers said. “But that is for me to sort out, and right now I am the power in this district, so I’m not scared of any retaliation.”
“As for our reward?” Moss asked.
“You have it! And more!” Powers said chipperly. He seemed like an athlete after winning a big game, and Moss knew now would be the time to get what they could.
“We need some supplies for our journey and what comes after,” he said.
“I’ll take you to my storeroom myself, and you can take whatever you need,” Powers said graciously. “But they don’t do runs at night, so tonight we celebrate, and in the morning, you’ll be on your way.”
“Thank you,” Ynna said.
“It is truly my pleasure,” Powers responded. “May I ask you one question, as we are but new friends here?”
“Certainly,” Moss said, though he expected what the query might be.
“Who are you?”
“Well, as I mentioned—” Moss began, and Powers waved a dismissive hand.
“Not the fake names, I mean, who are you?” he pressed.
“Better if we don’t say,” Ynna nearly whispered, “for all of us.”
“Understood,” Powers winked. “Let us go to my restaurant and eat and drink in celebration. You may shop thereafter, and I will set you up in one of my apartments before your long trip. I presume it’s better that I also don’t ask the destination?”
“Correct,” Moss said.
“So it is.” Powers smiled, opening the door and leading them from the office. The thugs beyond looked on the three with a mixture of surprise, anger, and jealous respect. He turned to the bartender, “I’m walking away, clear the streets.”
“I’ll send a crew, but the streets are already clear, boss,” the bartender explained.
“Of course, they are. Wonderful, just wonderful,” he said, rubbing his hands together in excitement. He strode out on to the empty street and took a deep breath of heavy night air. Eyes watched from windows along the wall side of the street, but no one made a sound.
He spread his arms wide and strutted down the street with his eyes closed for a moment, the lights from the bar windows glistening off his head. The three walked behind him in silence, watching uncomfortably. A few Hoplites followed behind, looking threatening though there was no one to intimidate. Rickshaws and bicycles lay abandoned along the narrow space, their owners likely cowering inside the nearest building. Powers tripped in a pothole but steadied himself quickly.
“You know what I’m going to do?” he asked no one in particular as he pointed to the deteriorated road.
When no one spoke, Gibbs filled the silence, “What’s that?”
“I’m going to give back,” he announced with pride.
“How?” Gibbs said as it seemed no one else would.
“I’m happy you asked, little man,” Powers said over his shoulder. “With that prick gone, I expect I will take all his business in the neighborhood and will become even richer than I already am—though I am already enormously wealthy. But unlike Ferret, I will give back to this place which has raised me.”
“Raised you,” Gibbs said, “don’t you have a bit of an accent, or were you raised in a Russian corner of the city?”
Powers laughed. “It’s a bit of both. I was born in Novosibirsk, but my mother wanted a better life—stop me if you’ve heard this one. She signed a contract and moved to the great BA City. As is always the case, she had not read the fine print, and she worked in a robotics lab for nearly no money and began borrowing from the company to feed me and my brothers. You know the con from here. The company offered her new contracts as a condition of the loan, and she quite actually died at her desk. And that’s why I want to give back. The people here all suffer. They cannot afford to pay even for road upkeep. I can do these things for them.”
“It will certainly ingratiate you to the people,” Moss said, finding it interesting that he felt a kinship with this local gangster.
“I do it not for the love, but because it’s the right thing to do. One should always help those who helped them,” he stated.
“You’re a good man,” Ynna said, somewhat ironically.
“You seem a good lot, too,” Powers told them.
“We try,” Gibbs smiled. They reached the restaurant, the neon signs written in Russian.
“Called Katia’s, after my mother,” Powers informed them.
“That’s nice,” Ynna said.
“Yes, my brothers are the cooks here. Best stuffed cabbage in the city,” he boasted.
“Can’t say I’ve tried it,” Moss admitted.
“If my friendship doesn’t bring you back to here, the food will,” he said, holding the door open for them. As they stepped in, it felt like a different world. Well-dressed men and women sat at red tableclothed tables with fine silver cutlery. The servers were dressed in elegant tuxedoes, bringing platters of food which steamed dramatically as they lifted cloches table-side. The walls were painted in a dull floral pattern and dim, round lights hung from the ceiling on gold chains, illuminating an emerald green floor.
“Sir James would love this place,” Gibbs observed, and Ynna clicked her tongue. Powers noticed.
“A more elegant man, I have never met,” Powers said, “and your friendship tells me much, though your secret is safe with me.”
Gibbs flushed.
“I feel underdressed,” Moss said, hoping to cut the tension.
“No friend of mine is ever underdressed,” Powers told them, though the other diners looked upon them with judgment. Waiters pulled out the chairs so the four could sit, which they did uneasily. “I have a restaurant for people who live to eat, but I want to give to those who eat to live,” he said, getting back to his previous point. He had a real pride about what he did.
“We can relate,” Moss said.
“This I now know,” Powers put simply. A moment later, a loaf of warm bread was set on the table with a dish of butter, rock salt glistening on top. Bowls of a red stew were placed before them, a white dollop of cream in the center.
“Eat, my friends,” he said as he reached out and tore off some bread, crumbs scattering to the table. “People love to hate the ingredients created in labs, but I find, with the right cook, they can be better than the excruciatingly expensive real thing.”
Moss grimaced but tried to hide it. He had spent his whole life eating lab-grown ingredients, and now that he had eaten the real thing, he didn’t want to go back. But he dipped his spoon and found that Powers was correct.
“Delicious,” Gibbs said between slurps.
“Thank you,” Powers beamed. “I will tell my brothers.”
“Please do,” Gibbs said, soaking up the last of the broth with some bread. Glasses of clear liqueur were put on the table.
“Now, the night shall begin,” Powers announced, gulping down a shot. The three followed suit, the vodka burning down Moss’s throat. Powers spoke Russian to one of the waiters who quickly returned with a sedative pack for Ynna’s face and a small medical bag. “You don’t mind?” he asked Moss, who had all but forgotten about the injury to his head.
“Oh, yes, please. Thank you,” Moss said, tilting his head and allowing the man to wipe his wound.
“Vasily was a doctor before coming to BA,” Powers explained, though Moss hardly heard it, already warm with drink.
“On weekends, we set up station for locals to come and eat this food for free,” Powers boasted.
“That’s very kind,” Gibbs said. Moss noted that his friend was doing a good job keeping the man happy. Ynna was refilling her glass and pressing the compress to her face. She looked content, and at that moment, Moss was, too.
By the end of the meal, they were all well drunk and full. By the time the dessert pancakes arrived, they thought they could eat no more. After taking a single bite to not seem rude, Moss found himself finishing the entire plate. He slid the plate away with satisfaction.
“Thank you,” Moss said.
“It was my pleasure. Sharing a meal with likeminded individuals such as yourselves is a treat for me,” he said.
Ynna pointed a finger and slurred, “Plus, we killed your competition.”
“And there is that,” he responded with a broad smile. “He really was a piece of shit.”
“Seemed like it,” Ynna agreed.
“Must have hated you, strong woman such as you are,” he snorted.
“We were warned, so Mo—Che did the talking,” Ynna said, correcting herself too late to go unnoticed. Powers seemed neither surprised nor interested.
“Good plan, good thinking,” Powers said. “The way he treated women… disgraceful. People in general, really. I had employees of his knocking down my door for a switch.”
“That reminds me,” Moss began, his tongue loose with booze. “I notice you hire bikers rather than drudges or your own local people.”
“Ah,” Powers said, “that is my genius. I have my own people, of that you should have no doubt, but the Hoplites were already a fixture in this neighborhood. Rather than fighting a war on two fronts, I befriended the bikers with the unicameral language of money. They are already angry and loyal and willing to do whatever is asked—the perfect fit for a man such as myself. Their leaders get a large kickback, and I get an army. Lose one, and another prospect shows up at my doorstep the following morning. And a person cannot be hacked.”
“Like a drudge, you mean?” Gibbs clarified.
“Exactly,” Powers said, turning to Ynna, “not that I need to tell you.”
“Watching that, were you?” she asked.
“Naturally,” he told them. None were surprised. “I will fall asleep to that video this very night.”
“Gross,” Ynna said, picking up on his implication, her filter all but gone. Having sat and enjoyed a meal after all that they had gone through, they had nothing left in the tank.
“Beautiful,” he said dreamily. “Would you like to see some toys?”
“Yes,” Moss said, standing. His robotic legs compensated for a wobbling mind.
“We have far to go?” Gibbs asked, sounding as if he feared he could not walk any distance without falling.
“Not my first day,” Powers grinned. “Through the kitchen and down some stairs.”
“Great,” Ynna said, her hand gripping the back of her chair for balance.
“Follow this way,” Powers said, his accent having grown thicker with every drink. He guided them to the kitchen where Gibbs stopped.
“Great meal,” he told the cooks, who looked quizzically to Powers. He repeated in Russian, and they all smiled and nodded. Powers opened a walk-in refrigerator and moved beyond the vats which glowed blue. Powers waved a hand, and the rear wall of the container slid open.
“Another secret door,” Moss said with a chuckle.
“This city is all secret doors,” Powers noted seriously and led them down a flight of stairs to a long room with metal racks lining both walls. The fluorescent lights were painful, and he and Gibbs found themselves shielding their eyes. Ynna’s adjusted automatically, and Powers had kept his glasses on even through dinner.
“Whatever you desire,” Powers said with a sweeping motion before picking up bags from a nearby shelf and handing them out. Moss had been in rooms like this before but never with a blank check. They all grinned. Ynna made straight for a rack of designer clothes and unopened shoeboxes.
“Really?” Gibbs asked her incredulously.
“I’m wearing fucking lost and found,” Ynna shot back, running her fingers over the fine fabrics.
“Still just a rich kid,” Moss piled on.
“Eat shit, Moss,” she chided absently, lost in the clothes.
Moss walked down the long corridor to a line of Kingfisher pistols. He had become accustomed to the feel of them and didn’t want to have to adjust too much. Moss saw a sleek black pistol with enhanced battery, auto-targeting and four settings where his had two: lethal and non. He picked it up and noted the weight. It was much heavier and of sturdier build.
“Never seen this style before,” Moss told Powers as he watched them shop.
“It’s not on the market yet,” he said with a clever smile. “Fell off truck, as they say.”
“And I can just—” Moss began.
“Take it. As I said, whatever you desire,” Powers said, enjoying their excitement. Moss passed Gibbs who was unfolding and retracting long rifles. Moss began to look at Dermidos bodysuits, each with its own purpose. At the end of the line were several he did not recognize, and he beckoned Powers to join him.
“You have quite an eye,” Powers said. “It’s a good thing I like you.”
Moss looked at him anxiously. “Yeah?”
“This is made from off-world compounds, tech which has hardly yet reached our planet. Has dial here by the wrist and can alter to fit your needs. Camera blindness, thermal adjustment, naked eye cloaking, anything you could dream of, truthfully,” he explained.
“And we can just take three?” Moss asked sheepishly.
“These, I may want back,” Powers said.
“We could compensate you when all is said and done,” Ynna offered, walking over and stuffing a duffle bag full of clothes.
“Money, I have,” he reminded them. “This is much more difficult to come by. Intercepting trade routes among the stars is not so easily done.”
“I’ll bet,” Gibbs said, now paying attention, too.
“But for now, you may take them,” he said, and the three snatched them off the rack. Ynna backtracked, and Moss saw her pause before a row of weaponry. She pulled a handheld beam weapon and admired it with a solemn smile. Moss recognized the gun instantly as the line laser which Burn had carried. Though slow to recharge, the weapon fired a devastating flat beam which made short work of man and machine alike. Powers gave her a calculating look but said nothing.
