《Ghosts Within》


 Chapter 1: A Bad Day

    There was no place on Earth like New Madison. Remy didn¡¯t just say that when he was drunk or trying to impress some outlander girl fresh in town, he really meant it. Where else could someone find three full lakes without a thick slimy film? An undercity with a bit of topside peace? And there wasn¡¯t anyplace else in the Federation you could get a slice of apple pie with real, honest-to-God cheese on it. The apples may be replicated but the cheese sure as hell wasn¡¯t and anyone here would fight you for less.


    It was cold this morning, the first of November. The Ghostfence kept outlanders out but it didn¡¯t do much against the wind. Remy tugged his collar close and ducked into a bar just off Revolution Square. It was nearly noon and that meant the bar was doing steady business. He nestled into a corner stool at the bar next to an old man falling asleep into his second whiskey and fourth cigarette. Remy shook off the cold and placed his hat on the bar.


    Luis placed an empty glass in front of him, and promptly filled it with something from an unmarked bottle. The smell of gin burned. Remy flashed a smile, it was his trademark feature. He reached for his gin but Luis pulled it away before he could get there. Luis wagged a thick sausage of a finger in Remy¡¯s face. The man was built like an oil rig, and with a greasy stubble to match.


    ¡°Nah-uh, you got my money?¡±


    There it was, always about the money with these guys. Remy wrinkled his nose.


    ¡°I got something better than money for you¡­¡±


    Luis slammed the gin back in a swig and grimaced. ¡°Nah, Rem. I think I¡¯ll take cash this time. Can¡¯t pay the bills on your tips, yeah?¡±


    The man next to Remy dipped his forehead to the bar and Luis flicked his ear.


    ¡°Up, Alvin!¡±


    Alvin grumbled and stood up. He took his half-drank whiskey only to settle in at the next table over. It was a start, at least. Remy reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, no bigger than one of them credit card things you saw in the old movies. He slid it across the bar to Luis who squinted to read the small lettering.


    ¡°You owe me a lot more than some flimsy old Vasc, Rem¡­¡±


    ¡°Hey, can I get a drink down here, or no?¡± a man called from the other side of the bar. Luis turned, and spat on the floor. You could count on noisy drunks, vile booze, and a modest chance of food poisoning at the School. Remy¡¯s kind of joint.


    ¡°Get it yourself, but so help me, Jon, the bots know how much is in stock. They¡¯ll know if you cheat me.¡± Jon reached over the bar and filled his empty glass with a pale green beer. Luis turned back to Remy.


    ¡°Anyways, as I¡­¡±


    Remy stopped him right there.


    ¡°Listen, Lou, this ain¡¯t no ordinary Vasc, alright? It¡¯s a dummy prototype, check the serials.¡± He pointed at a small line along the edge of the card. It was worn from years of living in someone¡¯s pocket or someone else¡¯s desk but it was there, plain as smog-less day. Luis shrugged.


    ¡°So? It¡¯s a dummy. Got a dozen of those in back. Bring me the real thing and we¡¯ll talk.¡±


    Remy laughed, ¡°Lou, you can¡¯t afford the real thing. This dummy matches a real one about to come down our way from some ruin-pickers out east. Toronto, or some such place. Could be a payday for you if your guys can manage to make the switch.¡±


    Luis paused for a moment and eyed up the card stuck to the bar with sloshes of misplaced whiskey. He plucked it free and slipped it into his pocket.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see if my guys are interested. If not, well, you better get some outlander friends, eh? You¡¯ll be needing their hospitality.¡± He set the glass back on the bar and filled it up before walking away.


    Luis was a nice guy, Remy thought. Bit gruff, could stand to lose ten or forty pounds, but he didn¡¯t take any shit in his bar and was great for when you were looking for a guy who knew a guy. In a town like New Madison, there were a lot of guys to know and only so many hours to sit in bars looking for them. Remy sipped at his gin and watched the light rain turn to snow.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± He grimaced. The gin was really terrible. Replicated, like everything else. Remy finished up and pulled his collar tight before leaving. Luis was making his way back to the toilet with a mop so he didn¡¯t look to be in a mood for goodbyes.


    Remy had always liked the snow. The Ghostfence filtered out most of the poison so it wasn¡¯t as bad as some really rainy days, or as caustic as river water so all things considered, it was a fine afternoon. Revolution Square bustled with vendors of every type. He strolled through, killing time before his next appointment. There was only so much piss-gin you could drink before a date until it became impolite.


    New Madison had it all, he thought. An aerofarmer lowered his skiff right into the Square and sold fresh cheese to anyone with enough heft in their pocket to pay for it. Judging by the crowd, he was probably making a killing too. Anything that didn¡¯t taste like replicator grease was worth a few week¡¯s savings. The farmer¡¯s guards wore their Vasculators clearly and their displays flashed a bright yellow lightning bolt. A basic Volt card, but it would do the job. If anyone rushed the farmer¡¯s stand, they¡¯d find out what 50,000 volts through the chest felt like. Or maybe it was amps. Remy never paid much attention in physics.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Fresh from the sky, no replication here!¡± the farmer called. Remy passed him by, keeping his credits where they belonged in his pocket. Revolution Square promised more than just some good cheese. A small boy hawked grime-covered trinkets from the undercity to anyone his wobbly eyes caught. Remy knew which ones would get snared. They typically came in pairs, wore nice sweaters and carried a small pouch of cheese. Boy had a good eye for his marks.


    Elsewhere, men, women, and neither alike sold goods you wouldn¡¯t find anywhere else, and focused as much on watching over the other vendors as they tried to pry money from a sucker willing to overpay for a red hat with a cartooned rodent on it. Who would steal a rat-hat?


    But mostly, there was food and drink. Carts would fry anything you brought or you could try something normal like a vegetable or guinea pig. Remy had a frozen cocktail fried up once. If you wanted it fried, they could make it happen. Tasted like shit, but it fried all the same. The booze selection was even more impressive. Kids running around with their alco-pops and their parents with their beers of every color. Remy stuck to the hard stuff. Harder to mess up the replication.


    He checked his watch. Quarter of noon. Close enough, he shrugged. It was only a short walk to the zoo. There weren¡¯t any real animals, of course. Sota Zoo up north still had a few of the real ones. Remy went there once. It was nothing worth writing home about. A few mangy dogs you could see in any undercity dump, three or four horses missing a leg or, in one case, hind parts. Holo replicas did the job without all the, you know, gruesome trauma. New Madison had a pretty nice zoo, all things considered. The city¡¯s junkies hung out there so it was a nice place to spend an afternoon. See some pretty birds, eat a hot dog, give a man some uppers for a rumor. Casual Saturday stuff. Today was different, though. He was on a case but there was no junkie to find today. He had a date. Remy saw her standing by the old world monkey enclosure.


    Stefanie Adelaide was a school teacher. Close enough to six feet to make no difference and legs that ran most of the way there. Reddish-gold hair fell past her shoulders in lazy waves, and bright green eyes sparkled in the sunlight. Ain¡¯t nobody have lips like that and still be single. She turned to him and smiled. Her eyes dazzled.


    ¡°Remy! I¡¯m so happy to see you.¡±


    ¡°Hey, Stef.¡±


    She opened her arms and Remy took the invite. She smelled like cinnamon, smoky and sweet. It was their third date and the first to open with a hug. Progress.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s up? Have you heard anything new?¡±


    Stefanie was a client too. Or, more accurately, strictly a client and so this wasn¡¯t really a date. Remy preferred to forget about that. Spend enough time working together and who knew what would happen. He scratched his neck and glanced over at the holo-monkey scratching itself indecently. Life might be simpler as a holo-monkey.


    ¡°Ah, no, I¡¯m afraid not. It¡¯s been quiet the past few days but I wanted to check in, see if you¡¯re still doing okay.¡± Snowflakes disappeared on the holo-monkey as he continued to touch himself. Why would they program him like this? He turned back to Stefanie. She pursed her lips and Remy gritted his teeth. This could be going better. ¡°Here, let¡¯s check out some other places. The monkeys seem busy.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand. I hired you because I¡¯d heard you were the best. If you don¡¯t know where Colin is, then why are we even here? I have class this afternoon!¡± Her cheeks flushed to match her hair and her nostrils flared. Cheese and rice, she was beautiful. He shook his head and tried his best smile.


    ¡°I got a guy who owes me a favor. I¡¯m going to see him this afternoon, see if anything pans out. Don¡¯t worry, something always turns up in cases like this. See it all the time.¡± Remy stopped them in front of the extinct mammals display. Lions, and tigers, and bears mostly. Holographic zoos were the best.


    He really didn¡¯t want to use up a favor for this. Favors were expensive. Fuck Colin for disappearing without the good graces of leaving any trail, but mostly for marrying Stefanie first. A pair of kids ran up in front of them and goggled at the sleeping lions.


    Light filtered through the bars onto Stefanie¡¯s face. The bars were a nice touch at a zoo with no animals. Authentic. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Remy fumbled for a cigarette and twisted off the end to light it up. Casting the end aside, he froze. In a shadow down the way, Remy saw a group of three men and knew his day was about to take a turn for the worse. Clarence ran to Happy Jack for something that small? It was only a gentle roughing up. Respectable enough for a guy like Clarence. Looked like Remy¡¯d be using that favor to save his own skin.


    ¡°Ah, fuck.¡±


    Remy unbuttoned his sleeve and rolled back his coat to clear his Vasculator. Three purple lines pulsed brightly from its display. Force. It¡¯d be enough. It had to be enough. He stepped back from the cage and in front of Stefanie. The kids ran off on their own, paying them no mind. Good, it would be messier with kids involved.


    ¡°Hey, look, Stef. It¡¯s been a treat but, uh, you should probably go.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± She¡¯d noticed Jack, Clarence, and the other man step forward. ¡°Who are those men?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll find you later. Go on.¡± He pressed her back, brushing against her thigh on accident. Of course, this would be his luck. Cinnamon drifted away and the three men continued to approach.


    ¡°Now, Jack, let¡¯s talk. I got something big for you. Something that could really make you a lot of money. Don¡¯t do anything hasty now.¡± Remy said. Jack shook his head and rolled back his own sleeve to show his Vasculator. He stroked the end of his thick mustache with his free hand. Jack was a lean man, but looked positively thick next to Clarence, a junkie made of just skin and bones. Clarence hung back a step, with a twitching smirk flashing on and off his face.


    ¡°Well, bless my stars, what a chance to find you here on a day like this, Remy? Come to beat on poor Clarence again? Can¡¯t be having my boys shaken down, Remy. You know that. Maybe next time you¡¯ll remember it, alright?¡± Happy Jack slipped a thin card into his own Vasculator and a yellow lightning bolt pulsed on the display. Behind him, Clarence shook. Fuckin¡¯ junkies. Remy didn¡¯t recognize the other guy with the face tattoos. Probably new in town. Maybe he doesn''t have any Vascs yet.


    Tattoo-face unbuttoned his own sleeve and revealed a beat-up Vasc from before any of them had been born crackled to life. More lightning bolts.


    This was going to suck.

 Chapter 2: Aspirin and Cigarettes

    Remy didn¡¯t think his heart usually beat that way. Then again, he usually tried his damnedest not to wake up in a cell so this day had already gone piss-up. He tongue tasted like a cigarette he didn¡¯t remember lighting. Remy wanted another.


    New Madison had pretty nice jails as far as they went. Force fields to keep the noise down, a toilet that flushed all on its own, and the Redcaps always carried a smoke or two.


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m up. Hey!¡± Yelling usually did the trick. He rubbed his temples. Nope, hearts shouldn¡¯t move like that. Fucking Happy Jack. He glanced down at his wrist. No Vasc. That¡¯s to be expected, he supposed. An Redcap appeared. Remy smiled, he knew this man.


    ¡°Tyreese, this is a misunderstanding. Couple junkies jumped me at the zoo and I¡­¡±


    ¡°Save it, Remy. This is your third strike. You know what that means.¡± Tyreese was a fat man with a stupid smirk. He had married the second daughter of that aerofarmer from Revolution Square and taking all that cheese to the fry vats did a number on his body. Rich enough to not have to work, but did anyway to get away from the wife. Seemed happy enough though which was more than Remy could say about many men far slimmer and far shittier than Tyreese.


    ¡°Ty, it¡¯s me. This isn¡¯t a big deal, just a misunderstanding. How¡¯s Alice doing? The kids?¡±


    Tyreese shook his head, chins waggling.


    ¡°Third strike, bud. Nothing I can do. You know Judge.¡±


    Remy ran his hand down his face. ¡°What am I even here for? They jumped me.¡± It was true enough. He could¡¯ve ran, but Stefanie was there. Even if Colin was dead as he thought - he didn¡¯t tell her that, of course - how could she be with a man who turned and fled at the sight of trouble? It was a worth a night in the infirmary and a few nights in the can. Tyreese clucked his tongue.


    ¡°Two unlicensed Vascs? Shit, man, I thought you were being more careful than that. Had high hopes for you after the last one. Hey, quiet in there!¡± Tyreese smacked his stun baton into a neighboring cell and the woman within crumpled to the floor. New Madison had the best cells.


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait, two Vascs? No, you got me wrong, I just had a Force on me, man. Check it, registered and everything.¡± Remy was just glad he ditched that prototype before getting jumped. Now, that would have been a great way to enjoy state hospitality for a few years. But this time, Remy really didn¡¯t do anything wrong. Well, not too wrong, at least.


    ¡°Yeah, well, tell that to your lawyer. Now, what you need?¡±


    ¡°An aspirin with a stick if you got it.¡± Remy sighed. It was no use pressing for more. He¡¯d just have to wait and see. His heart jumping about was a worrying business and a cigarette would be a distraction for a bit.


    ¡°What you got for me?¡± Tyreese was a fine man, crooked as a drunken snake. Crooked men were easier to work with because there was always something they wanted. Men without vices were unpredictable, and a pain-in-the-ass to deal with. Tyreese was good people.


    ¡°Need a Vasc?¡± Redcaps loved collecting Vascs. Power-tripping fascists. Remy did not miss the irony of being picked up on charges of unlicensed Vascs and offering his guard a Vasc for some aspirin and a cigarette. But when you¡¯re a hammer, every problem looked like a nail. This problem must¡¯ve been a nail because Tyreese slid a blister pack of pills and two cigarettes through the slot.


    ¡°Make it worth my time, Rem. If you do time, I have to wait. Got mouths to feed, you know?¡±


    Remy was positive that any concerns about feeding his children came about solely because he ate all the food himself. He twisted the end of the cigarette off and it lit. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and closed his eyes.


    ¡°Those are bad for you, you know.¡± Tyreese lingered outside, leaning against the column between cells. Must be a slow day.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure something else will take me down first. I live such a clean lifestyle, eh?¡± Remy knew Tyreese himself smoked like an undercity factory. Banter with Redcaps never really made much sense and Tyreese was no exception. Still, he was a good one all things considered. Fortunately, an inmate down the hall caught his attention and he tottered off smacking his stun baton against his palm.


    Cigarettes tasted like shit, but there wasn¡¯t any gin, and prison food was prison food. He smoked the first one slowly, and popped four aspirin into his mouth and chewed. Remy wondered which lawyer would show up this time. He had two retained and either would do. They could be bloodsucking ticks but they were his bloodsucking ticks and justice was what you paid for. Remy paid well enough. Everything he could spare was for legal expenses. His wasn¡¯t a line of work to skimp on protection.


    Tyreese pulled Remy from his cell about half-hour after he finished the first cigarette. He led Remy down a familiar white hallway and into a small room where Kathy Jones sat in her sharp suit. She looked up from her notes as they entered and waved back to the door.


    ¡°Thank you, officer. Leave us, please.¡± Tyreese undid Remy¡¯s cuffs and closed the door behind him as he left.


    ¡°Hey, Kathy, it¡¯s been awhile.¡±


    ¡°Sit down, and tell me what happened. Unlicensed vascs? You know better, Remy.¡± Pure business with Kathy. That¡¯s why she was paid the big bucks. Well, big bucks for him, at least.


    ¡°No, no, that¡¯s all wrong, Kathy. I was just seeing a client about her case when I got jumped by Happy Jack and two of his boys. They must¡¯ve planted the Vascs on me.¡±


    ¡°At the zoo?¡± Kathy had those glasses that looked like boxes with flared points and she peered over them like a hawk. Any lawyer could afford the mandatory corrective surgery, and Remy always figured she kept them around for the look. It was a good look. She took notes on an old-school notepad. Redcaps couldn¡¯t hack into them that way.


    ¡°What about it? Yeah, the zoo. Seemed like a nice place to meet and they just got this new penguin program installed.¡± Remy thought it was sort of romantic too but that didn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t simply a nice location to meet.


    ¡°What¡¯s this case then? The one you were working on? Or do I want to know?¡±


    Remy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Were the lights always this warm in here? ¡°Just tracking down a missing person. Client¡¯s husband.¡±


    ¡°Is he connected to Happy Jack¡¯s syndicate in any way? Why was he upset with you? Don¡¯t tell me you didn¡¯t deserve it.¡±


    That was unfair. Ruffling feathers was part of the game. That hardly qualified as deserving of two guys blasting Volts into his heart though.


    ¡°I may have choked out his boy Clarence last week for a lead.¡± Remy rubbed his chest. At least it was beating roughly normally now.


    ¡°May?¡± She and Remy shared an age but Kathy shared whatever quality his mother had which always caused him to say just what he¡¯d rather not say.


    ¡°Did. Yeah, okay, I roughed Clarence up a little bit but that¡¯s no excuse for setting me up like this. Honor among thieves, right?¡± Remy pleaded. She did that little thing where she looked over the brim of her glasses again and raised her eyebrows. ¡°Not that I¡¯m a thief, Kath, just an expression.¡± Lawyers were always so serious about that sort of thing.


    She sighed and tapped her pen against her notepad on the table. ¡°Sounds like you got what was coming. You took advantage of Clarence and his protectors found you. What do you want me to do about that?¡±


    ¡°No, no, no, you got it wrong. I¡¯m not saying I didn¡¯t deserve to take some lumps, because I do. I just don¡¯t think it¡¯s right to do time for this when I didn¡¯t do what I¡¯ve been accused of. That¡¯s the law right?¡± Remy preferred to operate in the dimmer areas of the law, and only had a casual relationship with it at best. Sometimes, ignorance really was a good excuse.


    ¡°More or less.¡± She conceded. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll start looking at your story as soon as your next check clears.¡±


    Remy frowned and scratched the day¡¯s stubble on his chin.


    ¡°Another one? I have you on retainer, doesn¡¯t that get me something?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it means I¡¯ll come here and you can tell me your problems. But I¡¯m about to run out of money so I¡¯ll need you to help me out with that.¡± She stood and moved past him to exit the room. ¡°I¡¯ll take your silence as consent. I¡¯ll initiate transfer when I get back to my office. Stay cool, Remy, you¡¯ll be out in no time.¡±


    ¡°Easy for you to say, spending my money, breathing my free air.¡± He grumbled. Remy only had to wait a moment before Tyreese appeared again and dragged him back to his cell.


    ¡°That ones a looker, eh Rem? You got an eye for them lawyers, that¡¯s for sure.¡± Tyreese guffawed, barking once like a seal. Kathy was okay. In a dark bar near the end of the night, sure, Remy had done worse. That was awhile ago, part of his brain chided him, before you found a gut. He stuffed the voice down and reconsidered. Yeah, Kathy was a good-looking woman, no denying. But she was no Stefanie. He smiled wistfully at the thought of her smell washing over him.


    Tyreese closed the force field behind Remy and toddled off to abuse his meatball hoagie at the end of the hall. Remy laid down and fiddled the second cigarette from its hiding place. With a flick, it lit and he closed his eyes.


    Kathy was right. It would be no time at all before he was out of here. Simply a misunderstanding. He took in a long drag and nearly coughed. Tyreese smoked terrible cigarettes. Yeah, simply a misunderstanding. He just hoped Judge would agree.

 Chapter 3: Beach Dreaming

    Judge did agree with Remy. Or more accurately, he agreed with Kathy. You couldn¡¯t really know what went on in your own trial but Tyreese and come let him out of his cell, and returned his stuff. Remy noticed his Vasculator was missing its cartridge and pointed it out to Tyreese. He shrugged.


    ¡°You offered a Vasc, I took a Vasc. Seemed fair to me.¡±


    Pretty expensive pair of cigarettes.


    ¡°You take care there, Remy. I¡¯d hate to see you back in here too soon.¡±


    ¡°Give Alice my best, Tyreese. The kids too.¡±


    Remy tried to lay low for the week after getting out. He replaced the Vasc Tyreese had taken with another from his cache. They were all unregistered but Redcap policy was to let the first one slide. He registered the rarer ones, under an alias, of course, but simple Forces, Volts, or Flamers, were a dime a dozen. Remy still couldn¡¯t believe he almost went to jail for that.


    Each day while laying low, he had breakfast at his usual greasy spoon serving old style omelets with a few slivers of real cheese mixed with the replicated shit, and drank coffee from a chipped mug that could have been his grandmother¡¯s. After that, sometimes he went to the School to think over some gin, and other times, he simply went home to a pile of printed pictures and scribbled case notes. Today, he was going to Colin¡¯s office, checking it again for anything he may have missed on the third or fourth time he checked it out. Seemed as good a way to spend the day as any.


    Colin Adelaide had disappeared on his birthday, October 3rd, and Remy had been on the case by the next weekend. Redcaps chalked up his disappearance as a bad trip to the undercity and offered to find Stefanie a place to stay while she sorted out their affairs. Apparently, she had found that offer unsatisfying and had come to find him. He couldn¡¯t blame her. He knew all about Redcap hospitality, particularly toward a pretty woman. Redcaps were ugly as sin, inside and out. Who wanted to spend a life keeping others down? Remy just sometimes stole from others, but only what they could afford to lose. Mostly.


    Stefanie had come to him then, all tears, tussled hair, and wild magnetism. It took Remy a few minutes to really hear her words, but once he did, the knew he had to take the job. The promised pay was the least of his reasons.


    Colin was also an attorney, which made sense. They always seemed to have the best-looking wives and Stefanie was a smoker. His office was at the far western edge of New Madison, near the Ghost Fence, but towering hundreds of feet above the surface. On the top floor, some enterprising fella operated a drone game for kids where they could jump into a virtual reality suit and fly their drone out over the outlands looking for ¡°bad guys.¡± Remy had a suspicion the same fella also operated the scrap collector¡¯s place down the road that specialized in outlander relics. Getting your employees to pay you was a pretty good racket. Colin¡¯s office wasn¡¯t far from that top floor. They probably had taken lunch together.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The old movies showed lawyer offices as a facade of modernity over an inherently stodgy office. Colin¡¯s was straight out of Old Hollywood. A woman with coiffed hair wearing a name tag of Beverly greeted him right out of the elevator. He flashed his smile and asked for Colin¡¯s keys. She went to go ask her supervisor and promptly returned with a coin no bigger than his thumbnail. They¡¯d done this dance each of the five times he¡¯d shown up but if anyone was going to follow bullshit internal rules, it would be a lawyer¡¯s hive.


    Colin¡¯s old office was nothing special. It had a window looking toward the downtown which was better than the alternative but otherwise contained just a desk and a few solid book cases. Not even a potted plant or a stained coffee mug. The only sign that it wasn¡¯t simply another vacant office was a small picture frame on the desk with a shot of him and Stefanie on vacation someplace far away.


    Remy tossed his hat on the desk and went to work. He pulled each book from its place and flipped through, replacing it only after ensuring it didn¡¯t hide some receipt, or picture that would crack the case open. He checked each book case, tapped for hollow panels, and even disassembled part of the desk before collapsing into the deceptively comfortable chair. He spun around aimlessly. He had done all of these things before, of course, but it was all he could think of.


    ¡°Where are you, Colin?¡± It was unusual for a man to disappear without any clues. Typically, they left messages, tracking coordinates, receipts, a blood-stained carpet, anything really. Colin had simply vanished. Remy turned back to the desk and picked up the vacation picture. Colin and Stefanie stood next to each other on a sandy beach with absurd drinks in hand. Colin was handsome enough, but not impressively so. He wouldn¡¯t be the last guy at the edge of the ballroom but he hadn¡¯t spent any money reworking thin lips or patching in a faintly receding hairline.


    ¡°What did Stefanie see in him?¡± Must be funny, Remy thought. He stared at the picture. He¡¯d never seen a beach like that before in person. Not one that wouldn¡¯t eat your skin off anyway. White sand, no mutated crabs biting at your ankles. Colin must make some real coin to afford a trip like that. No school teacher was pulling their weight when it came to luxury living, that was for sure.


    He tossed the picture back to the desk as he stood and it shattered. He winced, glancing out to the reception area.


    ¡°Ah, shit.¡±


    He scrambled over before someone came running. Remy pulled his hat from under the glass shards and shook it free before placing it back on his head. Of course this guy would have real glass for a fucking picture frame. Nothing announced ¡°disposable income¡± like a beach-vacation picture encased in real glass. Remy was nearly to the door when he noticed the picture itself curl in its newfound freedom.


    He pulled the picture carefully from the glass and looked at it more closely. Stefanie looked like a pinup doll, and Colin¡¯s gut cast a small shadow. He smiled, thinking about her perfume as they had briefly embraced.


    ¡°Lucky bastard.¡±


    Remy tossed it back to the desk and noticed something on the back. There were scribbles. *Sapphire Lounge, Box 3122, YankeeD00dle*. Finally, a clue. He folded it in half, making sure to crease over Colin¡¯s face and avoiding Stefanie¡¯s body, and stuffed it into his pocket. He knew the Sapphire Lounge, alright. If Colin was involved in something there, he might¡¯ve just vanished without another trace and it would be in Remy¡¯s best interest to stop looking. Either he cracked his case or he knew Colin was dead. Regardless of any other evidence he might find, Stefanie looked pretty good in a bikini, and that evidence was secured.

 Chapter 4: Undercity Blues

    Okay, New Madison did have some flaws. Remy didn¡¯t really care for the Redcaps but that¡¯s what you get in Federation territory, and they loved their blood sports a bit too much. He didn¡¯t care for how far it was from some of the other Federation cities, and all the green space in the city had been overbuilt by towering condominiums eating up every bit of free space. The Ghostfence kept them safe, but it also kept everyone inside. However, out of all New Madison¡¯s annoyances, Remy hated the elevators the most. Each one creaking like a motel bed in the room next door. Remy didn¡¯t much like the smells either. Same example. But if you needed to get to the Undercity, it was the best way if you didn¡¯t want to fight through someone¡¯s spice den. He made that mistake at the School exactly once. The elevator rattled to a stop and the metal gates creaked open.


    ¡°Enjoy your stay in Lower Madison.¡± A female¡¯s metallic voice urged him from a speaker. He stepped out and a few other folks stepped aboard. The undercity - ¡°Lower Madison¡± as the tourist brochures called it - was like any other pre-war city. Full of life, vibrant, and utterly detested by most folks who didn¡¯t live there. Didn¡¯t help that the feeling was usually mutual. Joke was on the outlanders after the bombs dropped. City-folk just built a new city but it was hard to stop the radiation without a shield. Outlanders eventually managed, in their own way.


    Remy exited the elevator terminal in front of half-propped up ruin of the old capitol building. It hadn¡¯t been used since before the first revolution, but squatters liked it and Redcaps avoided it so everyone seemed to get along fine. He tugged his collar close and hunched his shoulders as he walked away from the ruin. Small as possible, and not a target. Just another guy. Fights in the undercity escalated quickly with unregistered Vascs and old-style percussion weapons under every cloak. He passed a small pawn shop, and a short row of seedy bars ending in a brothel. Neither the elderly woman nor the girl who could¡¯ve been barely more than a child in the window were very enticing, despite the hype man¡¯s efforts.


    It was dark in the undercity, but what else could you expect from a city under a big box. The streets here hadn¡¯t seen sunlight in two centuries, but the street lamps lit things well enough, and flashing neon signs filled the rest. He wrinkled his nose against the smell of burnt oil and sewage. There was just no way to get used to that without living here.


    He walked on for the better part of an hour, pausing only on the pretense of buying cigarettes while two boys wearing Happy Jack¡¯s colors walked past. He didn¡¯t think they would recognize him but his mom had always said it was better to be safe than sorry, and mom¡¯s didn¡¯t lie about stuff like that. Usually because they¡¯d be the ones making you sorry. Remy flicked one lit and pulled deeply. He spat and coughed. Maybe this was where Tyreese bought his cigarettes. Disgusting.


    The street ended and he turned right down a narrow side street toward one of the monstrous concrete walls surrounding the largest of New Madison¡¯s lakes. Water had been pulled from outlander lakes to fill the lakes up to the height of the new city. A wiry man missing most of his teeth leaned outside a doorway with a flashing blue sign above, lit in ancient neon-tubes. The Sapphire Lounge, just as he remembered. He spit as Remy approached and looked over him like you¡¯d look at a piece of spoiled meat.


    ¡°Yeah, what¡¯s it be?¡±


    Remy cleared his throat. ¡°I¡¯m looking for someone, you gonna let me in?¡± Remy found that the truth was often the easiest lie to remember.


    ¡°Heh, who¡¯s that yer looking for? I never seen you here so you must be mistaken.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a minute.¡± Remy grunted. ¡°I¡¯m looking for a man named Colin, looks like this. Seen him?¡± Remy pulled the folded picture from his pocket and held it in front of Three-tooth¡¯s face. He scratched his chin and spit a glob of black phlegm onto the pavement.


    ¡°Well, she¡¯s a pretty one. Bring her by and maybe he¡¯d show up then, eh?¡± He laughed like a wheezing sack. He looked over Remy¡¯s shoulder and smiled. ¡°Hey, Shannon, good to see you guys. How¡¯s the baby?¡± Two women walked past Remy and gave Three-tooth a hug. The fat one patted his cheek.


    ¡°She¡¯s beautiful, Tommy, you have to come see us again! Javik playin¡¯ tonight?¡±


    ¡°Every Saturday. I¡¯ll let him know you¡¯re here.¡±


    Shannon and her friend entered the Sapphire Lounge and left Remy standing outside. Three-tooth turned to him again and his craggy smile disappeared.


    ¡°As I was saying, ain¡¯t seen him. You tried the Redcaps topside? They might care if a fella like that went missing.¡±


    Remy reached for his wallet. This was all part of the dance. You ask; they deny; they distract; and then you open your wallet. C¡¯est la vie. He pulled out a hundred credit chip and passed it to Three-tooth. The man looked at the picture again and stroked his chin.


    ¡°Might¡¯ve seen him before. It¡¯s been a while though.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just going to go have a look, alright?¡± After a bribe, it was best to just get to the point. The dance was over and their cards played. With a shrug, Three-tooth jerked a thumb toward the door and stepped aside. Remy brushed past him and down the stairs.


    The Sapphire Lounge was a place you went to forget. Blue skinned girls danced on stages in each corner. The talent wasn¡¯t bad. The Sapphire Lounge had a main bar populated by a few regulars who ignored the dancing girls and focused on their rail drinks in their hands. Several smaller rooms scattered off on all sides, where Remy couldn¡¯t see into. His feet peeled off the sticky floor as he sat at the bar and a young girl wearing way too much make-up and far too little clothing approached.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°Gin, rail, no ice.¡± There was no way it could be any worse than what Luis offered. She wrinkled her nose and spoke loudly over the music. Did they have to play it so loud?


    ¡°You sure? Half off all whiskeys tonight.¡± She leaned forward on the bar and smiled at him.


    ¡°Nah, gin please. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Alrighty, then.¡± She bobbed off to get his drink. She might¡¯ve been a topsider. Student looking for an extra job that tipped a little better, maybe.


    There were no rules saying topsiders couldn¡¯t visit the undercity, they just usually didn¡¯t want to. The undercity was a hip place for topsiders a few times each year. Students from the various academies would come down for their homecomings, or their graduations, or their ¡°slum parties¡± and see how the other half lived. Seeing coeds making a fool of themselves onstage had been one Remy¡¯s favorite reason to come to the undercity. The bartender brought him a gin with a wink. Tips must be slow today. He took the drink and handed her a twenty credit chip.


    ¡°Say, have you seen this guy recently?¡± Remy flashed her the picture thought he didn¡¯t expect much.


    ¡°Looks familiar. I think he¡¯s a friend of JD¡¯s.¡± She stretched over the bar and pointed to a far corner. She smelled like sweat and sugar.


    ¡°JD¡¯s?¡± He knew JD. Other than Jack, he ran the biggest game in town. The girl nodded.


    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s the owner. Decent enough guy if he thinks you might suck his dick but never forces anyone or anything.¡±


    ¡°That so?¡± Remy drank his gin. In his experience most guys could be nice under those circumstances so it didn¡¯t really mean much. ¡°What¡¯s your name? I¡¯m Remy.¡±


    ¡°Haely.¡± She was probably an academy student. He hoped, at least. Undercity folk didn¡¯t pay much attention to age restrictions for employment or anything else really.


    ¡°Hi Haely. Do you mind asking him if he¡¯ll have a word with me? I¡¯d hate to intrude.¡± He slid another twenty credit chip across the bar. She snatched it up and slipped it into her tights. Haely hopped onto the bar and swiveled over to his side and gestured for him to help here down. She was delightfully light. Maybe after this case was through, he¡¯d come back down sometime. If things with Stefanie didn¡¯t work out. He wrinkled his nose. Stop that, you lecher. You¡¯re working, and she¡¯s almost twenty years too young for you, he told himself.


    Haely grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowd. They moved through one room, and then another one before Haely knocked on a door and pushed it open. ¡°JD? Man here to see you from up top.¡±


    She opened the door and Remy stepped through. Smoke hung low in the dim lit room and it smelled like rich tobacco. Pure, and unreplicated. Couches lined each side and a slim man in a white suit sat between two blue women on the opposite.


    ¡°Thanks Haely, you can go. Come have a seat friend.¡± Haely pushed him further into the room and whispered into his ear while shutting the door.


    ¡°Good luck.¡±


    He kept himself from gulping, but only just. Good luck. The best omen for going into a dark back room at a known gangster¡¯s bar.


    JD stood slowly and extended his hand. He wore sunglasses though it was the middle of the night, he was inside, and deep below the city¡¯s surface. Though they¡¯d never met, Remy had a good sense of what JD was. Remy took his hand and gave it a firm shake.


    ¡°You asked specifically to see me, I see. Well, what can I do for you? I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t catch your name.¡±


    ¡°Remy. Remy St. Claire.¡±


    ¡°James Dotrey, but call me JD. What¡¯re you here for Remy?¡± He sat back down between the women. One puffed at an elaborate vaping machine, and passed it to the other. Remy tried not to cough from the fragrant smoke.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for a man.¡± He passed the creased photograph over to JD. ¡°Heard he was a regular here and that you might know what he was up to.¡±


    JD looked at the picture carefully. One of the girls leaned over his shoulder and squinted to get a better look. Remy¡¯s fingers twitched. God, Stefanie¡¯s pay was good, but was it this good? JD and Jack were peas in a pod. A snap of JD¡¯s fingers and Remy¡¯d be back bumming cigarettes from Tyreese.


    ¡°She¡¯s cute,¡± she said to Remy.


    ¡°You seen him?¡± He asked JD. JD shook his head and handed it back to Remy.


    ¡°Nah, not familiar. Girls cute though. If he don¡¯t come back, maybe you could send her my way if she¡¯s looking for a job. Always looking for new help.¡±


    Remy sucked his teeth. Imagining Stefanie here, painted blue and hanging over men and poles for a cheap buck or a quick fix. He¡¯d rather she be with Colin than that.


    ¡°You sure? Your name is on the back.¡± He flipped the image over and showed JD the scribbling on the back of the photo. JD was a professional. He didn¡¯t flinch, and his only tell was to smile. Remy clenched his other hand into a fist at his side. This was a gamble, but gamblers always hit the biggest paydays.


    ¡°Never seen him before.¡± He stood up and offered a hand to each of the girls who took it to rise. They wore less clothes than Haely and even more make-up. ¡°However, Mr. St. Claire, I do have some business to attend to, and I think it¡¯s time for you to go.¡± JD clapped his hands and the door burst open behind Remy. Two men wearing the same sunglasses as JD and black Sapphire Lounge shirts grabbed Remy¡¯s arms before he could react. JD smiled sadly.


    ¡°Sorry you had to come all the way down here. It was nice to meet you.¡± He pulled the two girls through another side room and the two large men lifted Remy from the floor to escort him out. Remy struggled against them feebly.


    ¡°Hey, let me know, I know the way out.¡± He protested and they released him but stayed at Remy¡¯s side. He stalked out of the club trying to catch Haely¡¯s eyes for a moment. She was twirling a bald man¡¯s tie between her fingers at the bar and didn¡¯t pay him the slightest bit of attention. He hoped she wouldn¡¯t be punished for bringing him there. Guys like JD liked to hurt people to set an example.


    Remy found himself next to Three-tooth and a short line of derelicts trying to get into the club for the night.


    ¡°Find your friend?¡± He asked. Any smile Three-tooth tried was a craggy horror.


    ¡°Fuck off.¡±


    Remy tugged his collar up and made his way back up the street toward the elevator to New Madison. He flicked a cigarette lit and considered the trip. It hadn¡¯t been a total waste. Haely immediately recognized Colin from the picture and JD¡¯s placid face said even more. He¡¯d been in here, alright. Recently. And JD didn¡¯t want him to know about it.


    He smiled as he entered the creaking elevator and plugged in his coin. It was time to pay a visit to the Keymaker.

 Chapter 5: The Keymaker

    The Keymaker lived on the south side of Revolution Square in a penthouse above even the aerofarmers. The elevator ride was a trip by itself, breaking through a thin layer of clouds as it raced upwards. Remy smoked a cigarette in the elevator as it rose. He flicked open the pack. There were only a few left from the pack he¡¯d picked up in the undercity. Thank God. The doors slid open without a sound and Remy¡¯s boots immediately scuffed an eggshell white carpet. He sucked his teeth and shrugged. Someone would clean it up. The Keymaker knew how to live, and someone with that much money spent as much on the help as anything else.


    The hallway was short but filled with art and collectibles from around the world. Pre-war carpets, artwork from ancient Europe, a scuffed bronze cat from the ruins of New York City. Remy knew these were just a selection. He¡¯d acquired plenty more for the Keymaker over the years. Some were gifts, others jobs, but it paid to keep the Keymaker happy. A happy Keymaker meant profit for Remy. As he knocked on the door, he wondered how many favors those acquisitions had earned. A tiny man in a mechanical suit answered the door.


    ¡°When I saw the cameras, I didn¡¯t believe it. Remy St. Claire, in the flesh, how the hell are ya!¡± The Keymaker¡¯s body itself didn¡¯t move and the voice that spoke was the machine¡¯s, not his own. It¡¯s robotic arms gestured Remy inside anyway and he stepped through into an opulent interior that shamed the relatively barren hallway outside. A towering combatmech - deactivated, of course - hunched like a street tough in the corner. He had not brought her that one. The Keymaker¡¯s own suit was dwarfed next to it. His stomach twinged. If he had a new go-to guy, he would lose a lot of money. Money he couldn¡¯t afford to lose. Well, no time to worry about that now.


    ¡°I thought it¡¯s been too long since I¡¯ve visited an old friend so I figured I¡¯d stop in. How you doing, Frank? Georgia still giving you hell?¡± He placed his hat and his coat on hangers offered by a smooth-faced automaton servant and followed a robotic drone into the parlor where a pitcher of what smelled like margaritas made with entirely too much tequila already waited. He poured himself one.


    ¡°Oh, she¡¯s back at corporate so I don¡¯t see her, thank God. Retirement didn¡¯t suit her, but damned if I don¡¯t know what I would¡¯ve done with her under my roof all hours of the day. It¡¯s good when your woman loves her work. Leaves me to do what I like.¡± Frank¡¯s mech suit followed him into the room and poured a margarita into a slot on the suit. A tube extended into his lifeless mouth. Remy sat in an overstuffed chair and looked down at the aerofarmers and Revolution Square far beneath them. A storm cloud was rolling in from the west, and the farmers scurried about their platforms covering their crops and animals while workers anchored to the neighboring buildings.


    ¡°Always figured you¡¯d be the one to go back, what with your busy hands and all.¡± Remy winced. He¡¯d been right about the margaritas and kept his lips tight through another sip.


    Franklin and Georgia were engineers. Damned good ones too. They had been the ones who figured out the science that enabled Vasculators to interface with a vascular system instead of electricity and the internet. Course, not all folks thought Vascorp¡¯s methods were decent, but whatever they¡¯d done was in the name of the war so what else were those prisoners going to do? Most of the old European countries had called them war criminals but Remy always appreciated the ingenuity. They¡¯d retired to New Madison after a century heading their research and development wing and Franklin was uncommonly interested in providing freelance services.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°I just can¡¯t help tinkering.¡± He¡¯d say.


    Remy didn¡¯t mind. He liked to talk and have drink so they had a mutual understanding. The Keymaker¡¯s work didn¡¯t come cheap but he¡¯d always be willing to work for Remy if the project was interesting enough. It was a big selling point to his clients.


    ¡°I need your help, Frank.¡±


    ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t think you came for the view or the drink, boy, so what is it?¡± Franklin¡¯s voice was definitely synthetic though it inflected like he¡¯d imagine an honest-to-God flesh version of Frank might. He suspected he or Georgia had programmed it themselves.


    ¡°I need a way into a place in the undercity. Needs to be quiet. Probably some security but I can¡¯t imagine anything too exotic. Probably some ordinary defenses against me coming in. I can get you the location with specific coordinates. What¡¯s it going to cost me?¡±


    ¡°Not even going to ask me if I can do it?¡± How could a robot sound insulted? Frank made it work. Remy flashed a smile and sipped his margarita. Strawberry was his favorite flavor. Not that it did much with the tequila but it was something.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t insult you, I know you can do it. I¡¯m just asking what it¡¯ll cost me.¡±


    His own margarita flowed through tubing and he laughed a mechanical, almost musical, laugh.


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s true. Tell me more about the job.¡±


    Remy did. He told him about the Sapphire Lounge and about JD¡¯s dismissal. He suspected there was some sort of vault or storage facility near or beneath the Lounge where he could find another clue about his case. Frank listened intently, not interrupting unless it was to refill his margarita reserve. The suit must filter some of the booze out because the man barely took a break between drinks. He finished up his story and shrugged.


    ¡°So, you think you can help?¡±


    Frank considered him with the faint wheeze of mechanical breathes. HE was a programmer, true, but his skill wasn¡¯t in writing new Vascs for specific uses. It would be near impossible anyway without the tech at Vascorp. Instead, Frank¡¯s skill was in examining a situation, and developing a plan for using existing Vascs to achieve that goal. It was a fun puzzle for him and a great help to Remy. After several moments of uncomfortable silence, he spoke.


    ¡°I think there¡¯s an easy way, but you¡¯ll need a Pheromone, a Force, a slightly modified Volt, and probably a few more. When do you need this by?¡± Frank was a busy man despite his retirement. He knew he wasn¡¯t Frank¡¯s only patron, but he liked being his favorite.


    ¡°When is good for you? I have a few leads I should investigate first and I neglected to drop off Georgia¡¯s birthday present so I certainly will need to return.¡± Frank couldn¡¯t smile but Remy thought he could see him trying.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re a sweet boy. She¡¯ll be sad to have missed you. Come back tomorrow afternoon. I should have something by then.¡±


    ¡°Tomorrow afternoon it is. Thank you for the drinks, Frank. I¡¯ll see you tomorrow.¡± Remy retrieved his hat and his coat and took the elevator down.


    Of course, Remy didn¡¯t really have any other leads but he liked Frank to think he was being diligent and not just using his brain like a crutch. Not that he¡¯d care. Remy only did it for his own self-assurance.


    Rain splattered on the pavement around him. November always seemed to be full of rain. The streets were emptying, folks scurrying away from the irradiated rain. Someone told him once why the Ghostfence could filter out radiation in the snow, but not as much in the rain, but Remy had no mind for that sort of stuff.


    He walked a block with his collar pulled high, and ducked into the School to find a seat at the bar. A flat screen above the bar showed last week¡¯s reruns of gladiator fights. New Madison¡¯s team wasn¡¯t very good; a bloody body draped in a once white shirt was being dragged off the dirt.


    ¡°Usual?¡± Luis placed a glass in front of him wearing his familiar dirty shirt and whiskey stained rag at his waist.


    ¡°Yeah, Luis, usual.¡±


    He drank the gin and then another one. Remy stumbled home six hours later.

 Chapter 6: The Key

    Remy plodded through the rain with a hangover and a breakfast burrito falling out over his hands. Thank God that he could still find a breakfast burrito at this time of day. It was nearly 3 p.m. and Remy finally felt well enough to make his appointment with Frank.


    Luis¡¯s piss-gin pounded in his head. The egg and cheese helped. He knew it wouldn¡¯t fool Frank but the old man would think his hangover great fun. Self-inflicted wounds were ripe for jokes, he reflected. The burrito ended too soon and he tossed its remnants into a rubbish bin.


    He shook off the rain in the lobby of her apartment tower as a doorman looked down his nose at Remy¡¯s sodden appearance.


    ¡°Morning.¡± Remy said, feeling like a wet and beaten dog.


    ¡°It¡¯s the middle of the afternoon, sir.¡± The doorman replied, voice oozing with practiced condescension.


    ¡°Floor 187.¡±


    ¡°187, sir? That¡¯s a restricted floor.¡±


    "I know, that¡¯s why I asked you to key me up there.¡±


    He sniffed.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll need more information as per your visit, sir. I¡¯m sure you understand the security and vigilance that our residents expect.¡± The man¡¯s eyes lingered on the pooled water beneath Remy¡¯s feet.


    Remy rubbed his temples with both hands. Would Frank mind if he strangled the building¡¯s footman? He shook his head. Remy doubted he had the strength to strangle a cat in his condition.


    ¡°Look, man, your friend yesterday let me up without a fuss. Call Mr. Fontaine if you¡¯d like. He¡¯s expecting me.¡± There was little that doormen or assistants loved more than name-dropping who they worked with or for and Remy found that was a quick way to get them moving. You want a name, fine, have a name. The doorman pulled a communications unit from his pocket.


    ¡°Good afternoon, Mr. Fontaine. This is Stewart at the front desk. I have a Mr., uh¡­¡± he looked at Remy and gestured for his name. Should¡¯ve asked me first, dumb ass.


    ¡°Remy St. Claire.¡±


    ¡°I have a Mr. St. Claire, here for you. Shall I send him up? Oh. Of course. Well, yes, sir, at once.¡± He clicked the device off and placed it back into his pocket. Stewart opened the elevator and motioned him inside.


    ¡°Thanks, Stew. Appreciate it.¡±


    People like Stewart always came out of the woodwork whenever he was hungover. It was like they could sense it.


    The door closed and the elevator rose. Mindless music played over tinny speakers and Remy picked at his teeth making sure no flecks of pepper or egg stuck in between them in the faint reflection of the outer glass.


    He exited on the 187th floor and knocked on Frank¡¯s door. He opened it and motioned him inside. The empty combatmech in the corner appeared extra menacing today.


    ¡°You look like shit,¡± Frank laughed.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    ¡°Well, I feel like shit,¡± Remy coughed. The scuff marks he¡¯d left on the carpet yesterday were gone. ¡°New guy up front?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where they find them.¡± Frank¡¯s mechanical arms rose in the air exasperated. ¡°Seems to be a new one every time I bother to learn their names. Proper topic for the next condo association meeting, I suppose.¡±


    Remy followed to the sitting room where they had drank margaritas the day before. He dearly hoped he didn¡¯t have another pitcher waiting. Tequila would go over like a lead balloon in his stomach right now. He set his hat on the nearby table and leaned back, looking out on the opaque gray clouds. ¡°Didn¡¯t figure you to be much for condo meetings.¡±


    He cuffed Remy on the back of the head as he moved past to set a mojito in front of him. His stomach churned but he hid a grimace. There was nothing he could do for the pallor. Well, at least it¡¯s not tequila.


    ¡°I do more than just your projects, boy. A man¡¯s got to stay informed of what¡¯s going on around him. Besides, Georgia has a bit of a feud with the woman two doors down who lets her cats roam about the place. When she¡¯s away, I must take up her mantle. The obligations of love, as it were.¡± He eased down into a squatting approximation of a chair, bringing his eyes to Remy¡¯s level.


    ¡°Got something for you. Nothing too special but I knew it was your birthday.¡± Remy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small Vasc card that was battered and worn. He handed it to him. ¡°It¡¯s just a Flame card, but look at that serial number. One of the oldest I¡¯ve ever seen and thought you¡¯d appreciate it more than my usual buyers for spare Vascs.¡±


    He pulled the card close to read the numbers. ¡°Well, look at this. Serial is under 100! I worked on this first generation of Flame cards, you know. Georgia was the lead programmer on these ones. Never kept any of the originals, though, awfully finicky things. Thank you, Remy. This is a wonderful birthday gift.¡± He admired it again, turning it over and over in his hands.


    Remy smiled. It was an expensive card, wanted by both users and collectors. But, being Frank¡¯s favorite was priceless in its own way. He also didn¡¯t have to worry about some Redcap investigation tracing the card back to him. Providing an unregistered Vasc to a criminal was a great way to end up chatting with Tyreese again from the wrong side of the cell.


    ¡°Speaking of projects, have you had a chance to think about my latest?¡± He took the smallest sip he could and it was nearly too much. The first was always the hardest, and a second sip went down easier.


    ¡°Of course, I said I¡¯d have it today, didn¡¯t I? Here.¡± He handed a sheet of paper over to Remy. It was covered in detailed instructions with a list of required components and assumptions.


    ¡°You may need to acquire a few of these before you can move forward, but this plan assumes your Vasculatory system can still maintain the capacity you¡¯ve previously had. Any changes there?¡±


    ¡°If so, it¡¯ll be news to me.¡± You could only use so many different Vascs within a day or so. A man¡¯s body just didn¡¯t have enough juice to throw around fireballs all-day like a story-book wizard or something. Some had more, some had less, but most folk could use some type of Vasc, at least.


    ¡°Then my calculations should be right. You¡¯ll be able to get in, and out, without burning yourself out if you follow the instructions.¡± He pulled a small sheet of paper from a cavity that may have been a printer within his suit and handed it to him.


    He read the instructions and noted the places he¡¯d have to swap Vascs. Seemed straightforward enough. It would be a big draw, but he hadn¡¯t been stressing his system recently so it should be fine.


    ¡°What if I don¡¯t do it in order? Say there¡¯s some¡­resistance. Any room to fight back?¡± It would be pretty awkward if he ran into a squad of JD¡¯s boys and had nothing but a Pheromone Vasc to defend himself.


    ¡°Not really. The biggest draw on your system is getting your body acclimated to a new Vasc. You might be able to swap out one out of order, but no more than that. Frankly, your system just can¡¯t accommodate enough variance for a truly elegant solution. This one will have to do.¡±


    ¡°This¡¯ll be fine, Frank. I''ll make it work. Thank you. What do I owe you?¡± The instruction were clear and the supplies reasonable to find. He already had most of them. You didn¡¯t pay for the plan, you paid to know that the plan wouldn¡¯t kill you if you tried it. Frank was worth every credit on that front.


    He waved him away. ¡°This ones on the house. Stop by after and let me know how it worked. Always get a kick hearing the different ways folks use these things.¡±


    Remy stood up and retrieved his hat.


    ¡°That¡¯s a deal. I¡¯ll owe you one, Frank.¡±

 Chapter 7: Greased Up Heart

    Remy already owned three of the Vascs Frank¡¯s plan called for. Those were common enough that most folks who bother wearing a Vasculator could be expected to own a copy or two though their use was strictly monitored. Pheromone Vascs in particular could cause a lot of trouble. While not technically illegal, an enterprising Redcap could find a good reason to toss you in the slammer for having one and a dim Redcap would just club you and take it.


    A Force was no big deal. The simple card could simply create a gust of air pushing away from the user. Nothing too strong but useful as an everyday Vasc and probably Vascorp¡¯s best seller. Volts were popular among Redcaps and private security forces for their similarities to ¡°TASERS¡± used by their pre-war predecessors. Remy¡¯s heart always skipped a beat when he uploaded his own Volt cards into his Vasculator. He¡¯d been especially trying to avoid them after his most recent encounter with Happy Jack. Frank assured him the programming itself wasn¡¯t causing any heart palpitations but they happened to Remy all the same.


    He¡¯d have to dig a little deeper to find the illegal cards on the list: Reverb and Shusher. Frank was a pragmatist. He just built the cards, and recommended their use. What the Federation said about their use wasn¡¯t really his concern.


    Josephine O¡¯Malley was the woman to talk to about illegal Vascs. She owned a pawn shop out on the east side, where the grav shuttles to the other Federation cities came in. Remy liked the east side. It had that right blend of topsider superiority complex with enough grit and grime to feel at home. It was like a slice of the undercity shining through and polished up real nice.


    Her shop was part garage, part storefront, tucked into the first floor of an apartment complex needing a new coat of paint. Outside a rat gnawed on something in the gutter paying no attention to the traffic moving by. A neon sign told him Josie¡¯s Pawn was open, and a second sign told him that she only accepted cash. No bank transfers, no tracing.


    Remy heard Josephine before he could see her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you try it, you¡¯d be dead before you hit the ground. I gave you thirty days to bring me my money and you¡¯d get it back. It¡¯s been thirty five days, Ben. Is that more than thirty? Yeah. It¡¯s more than thirty, isn¡¯t it. So, that makes it my bike now and unless you¡¯re willing to buy it for my new retail price, you can get off my property.¡±


    A man shuffled out the front doors, wild eyed, looking to spit fire and wanting to fight with the first man he came across. He was overweight, but the type that promised muscle underneath, and tattoos ringed the shaven left half of his head. Remy ducked into an alley and let him pass. Let someone else deal with that. With luck, he¡¯d find someone Remy owed money to. He slipped in behind Ben and entered the pawnshop. A bell above the door rang softly.


    ¡°Ben, I swear, you don¡¯t want me calling the Redcaps. They know how you beat them boys of yours. I swear, just give me an excuse.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t do nothing to no boys, Josie.¡±


    He took his hat off and placed it on the plasti-glass case near the register. She still used an old fashioned mechanical register.


    ¡°Can¡¯t hack when there¡¯s nothing to hack.¡± She¡¯d told him once. Nothing to argue about there.


    She stepped out from the backroom in stained overalls over a once-white shirt.


    ¡°Remy St. Claire,¡± she said with a tsk. Short black hair bobbed nearly to her shoulders, held back by a red band. She smacked gum, cherry flavored he knew, in between painted lips that matched. Splotches of grease and a Vasculator covered her arms and she wiped her hands on a dirty rag. Just as he remembered her.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he smiled.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t think I¡¯d be seeing you again after what you said. Think you can handle talking to a ¡®harpy¡¯ again?¡± She cocked her hip to the side, half smile cracking her lips. In a way, Remy was glad to see she hadn¡¯t changed at all. In another way, it terrified him.


    He¡¯d dated Josie for six months a few years back after they did a job together in the wasteland on the east coast. That had been the crew, he thought. Coworkers make for strange relationships, and he¡¯d fallen hard for the girl with an infectious smile, cherry gum, and the best driving skills he¡¯d ever seen. They¡¯d spent three days locked in a shipping container after that job had gone tits up. While that was a great excuse for releasing pent-up sexual energy built up between coworkers but didn¡¯t do much else for whatever their relationship had been. He usually had told people they¡¯d just met at the farmer¡¯s market.


    Remy scratched the back of his neck and winced. ¡°I said some things I didn¡¯t really mean. I¡¯m sorry, Josie. Honest-to-God, I am.¡±


    ¡°Mmmm, you swear, huh?¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°Yeah, Josie. Maybe we just ain¡¯t right for each other, but that¡¯s no cause for me to be a jerk. Your shop looks to be doing well. It¡¯s obvious you¡¯ve been working hard.¡± Flattery helped. Josie loved flattery. Remy remembered that above all her other quirks. She tossed the dirty rag on the counter and sat on her stool.


    ¡°I don¡¯t really care what you think, Rem. Ex-boyfriends typically have shit for opinions anyway. What do you need? We¡¯ve lived in the same city for years without bumping into each other so I don¡¯t think you¡¯re coming out here just to apologize, huh?¡± Well, Josie always had been the more professional one. Straight to the point. He clasped his hands behind his back to keep them from fidgeting.


    ¡°I need some Vascs. You still in that business?¡± It was rhetorical, of course. Everyone knew Josie was the woman to see for Vascs. He supposed he had been lucky that he hadn¡¯t needed her for something like this sooner. The shipping container job outside old Boston had been the largest heist of unregistered Vascs the Federation had seen up to that point. He hadn¡¯t taken a job in almost two years after, just living off his cut. She¡¯d taken hers and reinvested, buying loyalties and building networks. Remy always figured her the smart one between them.


    ¡°For what? You have a buyer?¡± Her eyes narrowed. She smelled herself getting cut out of a deal.


    ¡°No, no, nothing like that. I need them for a case.¡±


    She laughed. It was a pretty laugh, and her teeth flashed bright. I know that laugh, he thought with a smile. Remy remembered why he¡¯d fallen for the new driver in the first place.


    ¡°So you¡¯re still trying to make that detective business work? That¡¯s the best joke I¡¯ve heard all week. Discover some work ethic downtown?¡± His own smile faded and he gripped his hands tighter behind his back. And that was a reason he¡¯d fallen away.


    ¡°Business is fine, thanks. Look, I just need two Vascs: a Reverb and a Shusher. Do you have them?¡± She wouldn¡¯t go to the Redcaps to snitch on him just for that. He knew where too many bodies of Josie¡¯s were buried, sometimes literally, for her to talk. Or, at least, he once knew.


    ¡°Breaking into a bank? Getting back into the heist game?¡± Josie raised her eyebrows and Remy shrugged. Reverbs and Shushers didn¡¯t have many legitimate uses.


    ¡°A club, actually. Think there¡¯s a clue in their vault and need them just in case. No heist.¡± No sense lying to the girl, she had always seemed to know when he did that.


    Josie frowned and rose to her feet with a stretch. ¡°Well, yeah, I got them. Need a cover-up module too, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s probably a good idea. Do you have them here? I can pay in cash, of course.¡±


    Josie nodded and motioned for him to follow her to the back. She clicked a button near the register and bars slammed shut over the front door and the windows. He grabbed his hat and followed her. They stepped through a beaded curtain and through a garage. Two hover-skiffs sat in states of disrepair and a jetbike painted in purple and green flames with some tribal markings around the fenders - Ben¡¯s undoubtedly - hung from heavy chains. They took a door at the far end and descended to a lab beneath the garage. Workbenches were covered in electronic panels and Vasc cards. Along one wall, drawers were labeled with parts or card names.


    Josie moved to the wall and rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a card and then another soon after. She tossed him the first and he held it up to the light to read the label.


    ¡°Reverberation Module V2, Vascorp ID¡­¡± the serial number was scratched out. A Class One Felony with an X-Rated Vasc. Even a properly serialized one required background checks, several interviews, and substantial bribes to the right officials. No one in Remy¡¯s line of work could be bothered with something like that. It was expensive enough to be an honest crook without paying off the official crooks.


    She looked at the second one carefully and replaced it. ¡°Reverb One, Force, Force, Oh, a Volt Three¡­¡± Josie slammed the drawer shut, opened another and flicked through its contents.


    ¡°Out of stock?¡± Remy poked through the scrap on the surface of the nearest workbench. A soldering iron, motherboards to home units, the speech modulator for a serving bot, no Vascs. Josie continued to rummage.


    ¡°I think sold my last one a few days ago.¡±


    Remy gritted his teeth. If Josie didn¡¯t have a Shusher, there wasn¡¯t one for sale in New Madison. The Keymaker¡¯s plans were always perfect but rarely cheap.


    ¡°Got any others coming in? I can wait for a few days, I suppose.¡±


    She shook her head and folded her arms over her chest.


    ¡°Anything¡¯s possible, I suppose. Nothing scheduled, though.¡±


    ¡°Any chance you can you get it back from the guy you sold to? I¡¯ll pay double.¡± A Shusher would make everything so much easier. Stefanie¡¯s payment was substantial but paying double on a Shusher would eat a good chunk of his profits. He tried to think of it like an investment.


    Josie thought about that a moment, and glanced away from him to the door.


    ¡°Well, actually, my client hasn¡¯t paid yet. We could pay him a visit and pick it back up?¡±


    Remy didn¡¯t like the sound of that ¡°we.¡± Since their crew had split, he worked alone. That way, if things broke bad, he could only blame himself. Blaming others was much easier than taking responsibility so it was best to just keep others out if he wanted to get anything done.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Jose. Maybe it¡¯s best if I just pay for this one and be on my way.¡± He shook the Reverb in front of him and fished for a credit chip with his other. She¡¯d probably fleece him for this one as it is. Paying double for the Shusher? Are you drunk?


    ¡°Come on, Rem, I could use some muscle on this one.¡± Josie slouched against the workbench and looked back at him with sad eyes.


    ¡°Are you trying to pout?¡± Remy laughed. Josie had always been far more likely to give him a fat lip and ask him to reconsider than bat those lashes over her big blue eyes. On cue, she stepped toward him and her sad eyes hardened.


    ¡°Look, I¡¯m asking nice-like, now, and giving you a chance to get a good deal on some expensive merchandise. Don¡¯t be an ass and we can both make a profit here.¡±


    There¡¯s the Josie he remembered. His stomach fluttered. He shrugged again.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem like I can argue that. Let¡¯s go see your friend.¡±


    Her smile flashed back in an instant, popping dimples the size of buttons in her cheeks.


    ¡°I knew you couldn¡¯t resist.¡±


    It was going to be a long day.

 Chapter 8: The Inspector

    The problem with robbing a guy who just bought a Shusher is that there was definitely a reason that man needed a Shusher. A street pusher, or common thief wasn¡¯t going to bother with one. Far too expensive when the best you could hope for was an encrypted credit chip, drugs, or some spare Vascs. No, a Shusher was expensive, and only expensive criminals bought them. The Inspector was as expensive as they came.


    ¡°How do you even know where to find him? He¡¯s practically a myth.¡± Remy asked as they crouched under a freshly snow-dusted hedgerow outside the Water Lily Complex. Aside from Frank¡¯s Revolution Estates, the Water Lily was the pinnacle of style and comfort in New Madison. Nosy doormen, bad lobby music and everything. Josie crouched next to him. He could smell her cherry gum. Always with the same fucking gum. She shrugged.


    ¡°He wanted delivery. Shusher¡¯s need attunement to work right. Guess he didn¡¯t want to come down to the shop with us common folk, eh?¡±


    ¡°Guess not.¡± He agreed. Bullshit. If half of the stories he¡¯d heard about the man were true, the Inspector wouldn¡¯t have a greased up fence over for something as mundane as attunement. Something smelled fishy and it wasn¡¯t the lake spilling over its steel banks. He checked his Vasculator. Josie had loaned him a tuned up Force for the night. It seemed to be working but you never really knew with the modded ones until you tried it.


    ¡°Come on, he gave me the code to the service lifts. We can get up that way without anyone seeing us.¡± She ran out still in a crouch and, after a moment, Remy followed her into the lightly falling snow.


    ¡°We¡¯re going up the service lift,¡± he muttered. ¡°To rob the Inspector.¡±


    Well, the Water Lily was as nice of place as any to die, he supposed. If Josie was double-crossing him, he¡¯d already stepped in it. In for a penny, in for a pound.


    The front entrance of the Water Lily teemed with people. Men dressed in their penguin suits and women flaunting feathers longer then their arms smoked, laughed, and chattered on the open-air lounge overlooking the lake. Small heat units hovered above the patio in a dome, melting snowflakes as they fell toward the patio.


    They sneaked around the other side, though no one on the patio would have given them a second glance. The service entrance itself was much quieter. Since the patio crowd would revel late into the night, everyone was likely inside working. Josie reached the entrance and Remy sidled up next to her along the wall. He tried to catch his breath and stretch his calf. He had jogged at a crouch and standing up straight hurt.


    ¡°You got fat, Remy.¡± Josie admonished with a wink. Remy touched his belly and shrugged. It was softer than when he¡¯d first come to New Madison, undoubtedly. Softer, but he still didn¡¯t have a gut. Not yet, anyway.


    ¡°Retirement suited me, Josie. Just gotta do a few more jobs so I can get back to it.¡±


    She snorted and removed her left glove. Her bare fingers paused for a moment under the light before she touched her thumb to each and punched in a five digit code on the old style keypad next to the door. It blinked green and clacked open.


    ¡°Skin augments? Those are new.¡± And expensive. First, surgery from a doctor willing to do it and who wouldn¡¯t rob you halfway through. Second, a couple Vascs about as expensive as a Shusher but a lot more felonious. He wondered how deep in the shit she had found herself since their last rendezvous.


    ¡°A woman should always have a few surprises at her fingertips.¡± She replied simply. They slipped in the back door and made their way through a loading area. It was quiet at this time of night though they heard pots and pans clattering from the nearby kitchens as cooks continued to pump out unreplicated food for the well-paying party. She heading away from the kitchen noises to a darker room filled with large gray machines. His stomach rumbled at the scent of food.


    ¡°We should grab some take out after this.¡±


    If we survive. He left that part unsaid.


    ¡°If you¡¯re buying sure.¡± Josie nodded past the machines in the dark room. ¡°This way should be clear. No one does laundry at this hour, we can get right up there.¡± She wiggled her fingers again and punched in a longer code into the keypad. Remy was surprised the Water Lily still bothered with keypads even if they had biometric scanners. He was thankful, though. With Josie¡¯s augments, this was a lot easier than finding some doorman¡¯s misplaced staff badge and then getting eye surgery for retinal scanning.


    The ride up was uneventful. They soared upwards encased in real glass overlooking the lake. Its dark water reflected a sliver of moon and a scattering of stars like a black mirror. Beyond, the greenish glow of the Ghostfence flickered as outlanders tested its remote corners where the dome of New Madison touched the ground. It was about time for the Redcaps to do another ranging to clear out their warrens. Maybe the outlanders would even take a few Redcaps with them. Win-win for everyone in the city.


    The lift door opened and they stepped into a hallway much like Frank¡¯s Revolution Estates. The carpet was the same creamy white, and the walls had pre-revolution wallpaper between ornate brass molding. It was like the designers wanted to create a place that announced its occupants had more money than sense.


    Josie led them down the hallway to the last room on the right. Again, her fingers danced over a keypad. A secondary scanner appeared and she placed her palm on it to read. We¡¯re just going to walk right into the Inspector¡¯s apartment, huh? Remy shivered, though he couldn¡¯t see the snow falling anymore. Not much to do now but see it through. Scrapping a job half-done was as bad as botching it outright most of the time.


    Hope you know what you¡¯re doing Jose.


    The door clicked open and Remy followed Josie inside. She motioned him to be quiet and he was more than happy to oblige. Quickly, Josie swapped out the card in her Vasc for something else but her unit was cloaked so he couldn¡¯t see what it was.


    Remy looked around. The Inspector¡¯s apartment was nicer than Frank¡¯s, though he didn¡¯t really have anyone else but his to compare to. His own apartment could have been a smoking lounge or a broom closet for the Inspector. Josie stepped slowly through the entryway and moved into an office. A simple wooden desk stood in the center while two potted ferns filled the far corners. Behind the desk, full glass windows overlooked the assembled party below and showed the glittering mirror of the lake clearly above the neighboring buildings.


    Josie started rifling through the desk drawers and tossing files to the side. Remy had never wanted to rob her client, and that feeling only grew when she finally told him who the client was. No more jobs with Josie, he told himself. He went to the window and looked down at the little people below.


    ¡°Hell of a view.¡± He whispered.


    ¡°Yes, I like it.¡± A man¡¯s voice came from the hallway. Remy spun around and thrust his left arm out reflexively. The man raised his arms and eyebrows though a small grin cracked his face. Remy couldn¡¯t believe that he hadn¡¯t heard him enter.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Oh no, don¡¯t stop on my account. Josephine, it is so nice to see you again, even though our last rendezvous ended so poorly. You are a devilish woman to tease me so.¡± The man was impressively built, tall and handsome. He wore a red silk robe over deeply tanned skin. His hair was slicked back tightly on his head and a precise mustache rested on his upper lip.


    Remy gritted his teeth. The Inspector.


    ¡°Fernando, I¡¯m taking it back and you can¡¯t stop me. It¡¯s still my property. And besides, you¡¯re the one who cheated on me.¡± Josie threw a stack of papers at Fernando and Remy stepped back toward the window.


    God damn you, Josie.


    Fernando, the Inspector, shrugged lazily, ¡°She was a rare beauty, as you are, my dear. You cannot expect a man to say no to his deepest impulses can you? Do you remember our own furtive escapades in the moonlight? The sunset joyrides over the wastes? Canoodling in the server room during our last work of art? Those were good days, Josephine. Come back, let¡¯s try them again.¡±


    Remy was ready to agree with him. There had to be a better way to get a Shusher. Anything other than being here at this moment would be a better way to get a Shusher. The Inspector stepped forward but his footsteps were silent. Remy never realized how eerie an active Shusher could be. The man was practically a ghost. Josie threw another folder at him.


    ¡°How dare you say that to me? After what you did? You ruined it! Not me, you! Give me my Vasc.¡± She held out her hand. Fernando looked over to Remy. Fernando¡¯s eyes looked him up and down slowly. Remy couldn¡¯t help but feel like a piece of meat about to be thrown out.


    ¡°Is this him? The man you left me for?¡± Fernando narrowed his eyes and met Remy¡¯s. Remy¡¯s own widened and he started to shake his head. This was the last thing he needed. The Inspector thinking he stole his woman. And Josie being that woman no less. Absolutely not. Josie grabbed his waist and his heart sank into his feet.


    ¡°Yeah, this is him, Fernando. Iroh¡¯s a better thief than you, and better where it counts.¡± Well, at least she hadn¡¯t used his real name. Remy couldn¡¯t think of anything else that could go wrong.


    Fernando¡¯s face reddened and he took a slow breath. ¡°Is that so, Iroh?¡±


    Remy shrugged. He didn¡¯t trust his voice. With how things were going, Remy¡¯d likely insult the man¡¯s mother if he tried to explain. Maybe the Water Lily would not be such a good place to die after all.


    ¡°Your boyfriend is a mute, Josephine. A pity, he can never read you poetry beneath the stars.¡±


    ¡°You know I hated your poetry.¡±


    God damn it, Josie.


    Fernando raised his left arm and Remy stiffened, preparing for 50,000 volts to arc through his chest. Maybe he¡¯d get lucky again and survive long enough to wake up in a cell. The volts never came. Instead, Fernando tapped his Vasculator and a card popped out. He tossed it to Josie.


    ¡°You wound me unfairly, Josephine. I do not want your charity if this is how you feel. I¡¯m not a man without feelings or dignity. Take it.¡±


    Josie looked at the card and slipped it into an inner pocket of her jacket. ¡°Thanks. Now, we¡¯ll show ourselves out.¡± She grabbed Remy¡¯s arm and stepped around the desk. Remy was willing to play whatever role she wanted to get out of this room. Anything to get out of this room. Fernando held up his left arm with outstretched fingers. His right hand jammed a new card into his Vasculator¡¯s slot.


    ¡°I spared you last time because I was a fool in love. I¡¯ll not make the same mistake twice. Iroh, it was nice to meet you even under such dour circumstances.¡±


    The boot time of his new card saved their lives.


    Remy grabbed Josie and slammed her down behind the desk as a fork of lightning thick as a lamp post ripped past them and into the glass. The window exploded in all directions and shards scored Remy¡¯s face. He extended his own left hand toward the desk and blasted it away with the modified Force.


    The desk crashed into the Inspector and carried him across the room. It smashed against the far wall and Fernando crumpled with a loud grunt. He was right next to the entrance. Remy looked about, desperate for another way out. Wind rushed through the broken window whipping Josie¡¯s hair into his face. He couldn¡¯t out duel a man with a Volt like that. A Force was more utility than anything, but a Volt with bolts like that could drop a man in a second. What did Josie have in her Vasculator?


    The Inspector staggered back to his feet and withdrew an old style percussive hand gun with his right hand. Remy couldn¡¯t wait for his system to recharge enough to use again. He¡¯d be long dead before that could happen.


    ¡°Do you trust me?¡± Josie yelled into his ear over the wind. He shook his head. Absolutely not. Josie always had the worst fucking ideas.


    ¡°No, but do it.¡± They really had no any other choice. He certainly couldn¡¯t think of anything to do. She wrapped her arms around him and rolled as hard as she could to the right. They tumbled over broken shards of glass and out the window as twin forks of electricity shot into the empty space above them. Remy gripped Josie tightly and would have screamed if his throat could unclench. This was not a better solution than being electrocuted in the Inspector¡¯s office.


    It was a long fall from the 100th floor but the end would come quickly. There wasn¡¯t a pool of water beneath them or some sort of elaborate system of bedding and trampolines so Remy was sure they were pretty much fucked.


    ¡°Force!¡± Josie yelled into the wind. She released him with her left arm and extended it away from the building. He looked back at the rapidly approaching patio below as the penguin-clad men and peacock-feather women fled from beneath them. What a stupid fucking plan. Blow them back through a window? He groaned.


    Well, it was a better plan than nothing, he had to admit. Not by much, though. Remy fought against the wind and extended his own left arm. Now they could end up splattered on the outside of the glass before sloughing onto the ground. Wonderful.


    ¡°Go!¡± he felt her Vasc activate a split second before his own and their momentum abruptly changed. His back took the brunt of the window and he¡¯d never been more relieved to feel glass shards burst round him. They landed in a rolling heap in the living room of a petrified family.


    ¡°You okay?¡± he grunted. There was blood everywhere. Had that all come from him? Josie nodded slowly and staggered to her feet. She would have fallen if he hadn¡¯t been there to catch her. Her pupils dilated and she blinked them trying to focus. She could hardly stand.


    ¡°Concussion. Come on, we got to get out of here.¡± Throwing an arm over his shoulders, he turned and saw the family for the first time. They hadn¡¯t moved from their meal but the mother had fainted into her mashed vegetables. ¡°Uh, hey.¡± He tried to tip his cap and only found blood from the broken glass where his hat should be. Damn it, Josie. He¡¯d always liked that hat.


    There wasn¡¯t really anything else you could say to a family after crashing into their living room from outside of their skyscraper. Remy tossed a credit chip on the table as he hobbled the pair of them out the door. ¡°Hope this covers it. Sorry.¡± There was no way twenty credits would cover it.


    The floor¡¯s layout was the same as the Inspector¡¯s floor and Remy half-dragged Josie¡¯s uncooperative feet to the laundry lift. He just hoped her glass-shredded fingers retained enough similarity to pass. It had only been a few minutes, right? The room filled with maintenance lifts was blessedly empty and Remy used Josie¡¯s fingers to match the digits he saw her punch in earlier. The lift came and he pulled Josie in with him.


    ¡°Come on, stay with me. Stay up!¡± He slapped her on each cheek, not hard but hard enough to refocus her eyes. She mumbled something he couldn¡¯t understand but remained upright so Remy took that as a good sign. Was it a good sign? He had no idea how to care for a concussed person.


    The lift descended and they stumbled out the service entrance past two cooks out for a smoke break.  Remy dug into his pocket and handed each another credit chip.


    ¡°Just having a smoke, right? Didn¡¯t see anything unusual?¡± The smaller one shrugged.


    ¡°Nah, just the usual, man. Slow night.¡±


    Remy liked men who could be bought. They spoke the same language. He almost asked for a hit off one of them. Lord knew he needed one. Instead, he adjusted Josie¡¯s arm so he carried more of her weight on his shoulders.


    ¡°Have a good one.¡±


    They didn¡¯t reply and continued their smoke break. He shuffled to the left, away from where they had approached, hoping that any blood trail would be covered by morning. Remy took two more lefts, then a right before settling on a bench in a small park nestled between two apartment complexes. Remy waited several minutes to catch his breath before hoisting her arm over his shoulder again. They shuffled side streets for nearly an hour before reaching his apartment. They¡¯d only had to duck down two side streets to avoid Redcap patrols but Remy didn¡¯t think he could have carried her another block. Josie¡¯s legs barely moved by the end and he staggered under the effort.


    Remy breathed deep, lifted her with the last of his fading strength, and started up the stairs. Maybe he was getting fat.


    ¡°You owe me a hat.¡±

 Chapter 9: Lyin Through Your Teeth

    Finding a Shusher was the worst decision Remy¡¯d made in some time. Sure, he had all the pieces that Frank¡¯s plan required, but they came with whole host of other problems.


    The Vascs had come at a steep price. In exchange, he¡¯d made an enemy of the most dangerous man in the business, bumbled back into Josie¡¯s life, and lost his favorite hat. It was a poor trade on all accounts. He¡¯d spent much of the first night plucking glass from his face and arms while making sure Josie didn¡¯t die in her sleep. In the morning, he dropped her off at New Madison General where she spent another night sedated. A delivery car from the hospital released her to his front door bright and early on the following morning and she was his problem now.


    A problem that refused to leave.


    Josie had convinced herself that the Inspector was going to bide his time and wait for her to come home to take her. Remy rubbed his temples over the bandage wrapped around his still bruised face. Like the Inspector would sit around a shabby pawn shop waiting like a spurned lover. Revenge was hardly a waste of time, but the Inspector was a busy man. Did a couple dim thieves really warrant the attention of a man like that? After all, business was business and their business was finished. Finally, after two days of her sleeping on his couch, he convinced Josie to go back home.


    For a few changes of clothes, he groaned.


    The shop looked just like they left it, windows barricaded and security turrets rotating along the walls and roof. The neon ¡°Josie¡¯s Pawn¡± hummed loudly.


    Remy slowly took in the entire street before nodding.


    ¡°Looks pretty safe to me. Sure you don¡¯t want to just stay? You¡¯ll be more comfortable at home than on my old couch.¡± He asked for hundredth time. It might have only been two days but in an apartment the size of his that might as well have been two years. She shook her head, firm as before.


    ¡°I¡¯m just grabbing a few things then I¡¯ll be back. Don¡¯t you think about leaving me, Remy St. Claire. I know where you sleep.¡± She shot him a glare that equal parts amused and annoyed. He shook his own head and leaned back onto his skiff.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be here.¡± He sighed and lit a cigarette. Remy spent the time thinking about how he could leave her. It wouldn¡¯t be so hard. His skiff was right there. He¡¯d be back across the city in just a few minutes and could to work on what had started all of this. Stefanie¡¯s case was growing colder by the day and he hadn¡¯t made much progress since being tossed from the Sapphire Lounge a week back.


    ¡°Remy, just want to talk. Haven¡¯t heard from you. The Square, tomorrow at noon?¡± Stefanie had left him a message just this morning. She was agitated, and Remy couldn¡¯t blame her. Maybe Josie was right. Maybe he was a better thief than a detective. Still, that voice was honey and he had to see Stefanie again. A bad detective with her was a sight better than a decent thief being thrown from skyscrapers.


    Before he could muster the courage to fly away and leave Josie, she exited the front of her shop with a worn green duffel bag and a backpack held together by duct tape. She chomped on a fresh piece of gum and had even found the time to retouch her lipstick. He sighed. Josie¡¯s brand was every bit as strong as it was different from Stefanie¡¯s.


    Back in the skiff, Remy started talking before they had turned off her street.


    ¡°Hey, look, Josie. I¡¯m happy you¡¯re doing okay now and it¡¯s been a treat having you around, but I got to get back to my case. You can crash at my place until you find something else but this is what pays my bills and if I¡¯m going to keep paying them, including what you¡¯re asking for the Vascs, I need to get moving.¡±The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    She didn¡¯t reply right away. Josie watched the buildings blur by, chewing her gum with loud flourishing pops. The cherry smelled good. Finally, she turned back to him with a familiar glint in her eye. Remy¡¯s heart sank.


    ¡°What if I could help you with that case, Rem? Taking a Reverb and Shusher off your plate has to help the bottom line, eh? We could be partners. Strictly business, of course.¡±


    No. No, no, no.


    The last thing he needed was Josie O¡¯Malley coming into his business - his life - and making a scene of things.


    ¡°You know, I don¡¯t mean to keep bringing this up but, you almost got me killed the other night. Stealing from the Inspector and dragging me into it by making me your, your what? Accomplice? Lover? Come on, Josie. How can I work with someone like that? I have enough problems of my own, I don¡¯t need yours too.¡± Remy was sure that he would have to use Stefanie¡¯s money from the case to move from New Madison. It would only be a matter of time before the Inspector paid him a visit otherwise. He was a gentleman thief, if you could call anyone that, but a gentlemen might still leave you dead in an alley same as another man.


    Josie crossed her arms and returned her stare to the window.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have anything to say? You? You always have something to say, Jose, believe me.¡± He scoffed, accelerating up and over a low rise of buildings built around a hill. Remy hoped she would say something about how the Inspector deserved it, or that she was set up, or that she was really doing Remy a favor. Really, anything so that he could argue against it. Instead, she sat silent, and his rage fizzled without the friction.


    They were almost back to his apartment before she spoke again.


    ¡°I can¡¯t go home, Remy. I did something stupid and I know its my fault but I can¡¯t really change that now. If I¡¯m going to be on your couch, I¡¯d like to help if I can. Earn my place, so to speak.¡±


    He wanted to yell, but her posture caught his tongue. Something about her was different. Remy hadn¡¯t heard Josie speak like this since their first day in that cargo container out east. Open. Honest. Like someone who wasn¡¯t lying through their teeth simply to stay alive. He was going to regret this.


    ¡°Okay.¡± He mumbled. Josie nodded with a tight smile and rested her head against the window. Remy just stared blankly forward.


    They landed in front of Remy¡¯s apartment complex and the apartment¡¯s artificial intelligence assumed control of the skiff. They hopped out onto the stoop and the skiff flew off to the garage. Remy tossed Josie the key card to his place.


    ¡°Go up. I¡¯m going to go grab a few things from the store. Want anything in particular?¡±


    She shook her head and tried to lift her duffel bag. Josie staggered under the weight and Remy grabbed it from her. God, she looked frail. Had she always looked like this? It was like she had spent the last of her strength riding back with him.


    ¡°Here, go on up. I¡¯ll take this.¡±


    He followed her up the steps one at a time, with a hand outstretched ready to catch her at a moment¡¯s notice. He didn¡¯t even know what kind of groceries to get with a woman in the house. Yogurt? Should I ask her if she likes yogurt? No, that would be weird right now. Don¡¯t worry about it. Fly casual.


    She fumbled with the card but managed to open the door and sloughed off her backpack onto a waiting chair already piled with unopened mail and clothes. He handed her the duffel bag.


    ¡°Anything you need?¡± he repeated. A walk to the store would do him some good. Couple minutes to clear his head, and pick up a new pack of smokes. At least bring back a semblance of normalcy to his life.


    She shook her head.


    ¡°Whatever you¡¯d like. I just don¡¯t want you to be mad, Rem. I¡¯m going to be here anyway and you could use a someone like me.¡± Josie¡¯s eyes left little room to argue, both fierce and hurt at the same time.


    What would Stefanie think of him working with a woman like Josie? Let alone living with a woman like Josie. Was she the jealous type? Remy scoffed at that. A woman like that had nothing to be jealous of. Besides, she already had a husband. A dead husband, though. Maybe¡­


    He srugged. Foolish thoughts of a foolish man.


    ¡°Yeah, well, I suppose that¡¯s true. Let¡¯s plan on doing a walk about later then and talk about it.¡± Remy wanted to puke. He had sworn off working with Josie. Sworn it off like cheap tequila. She smiled back at him, smacking that fucking cherry gum.


    ¡°You know, on second thought, grab some beers. We should catch up.¡± She shut his own apartment door in his face and Remy trundled down the stairs, regretting the path his life was careening down.

 Chapter 10: Undercover

    ¡°I can¡¯t see anything. Move over.¡±


    ¡°Would you please shut up.¡±


    Remy practiced the breathing techniques he¡¯d learned in the Federation Guard. They were supposed to give him discipline and patience. Instead, he just honed a sharp focus on his irritations.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been here for nearly five hours. We should move. JD¡¯s not doing anything tonight.¡± She whispered from her hiding place under a corrugated steel trash lid. Remy had laughed when she had chosen her hiding spot but stopped when he realized the only close place was under several bags of refuse from the pan-Asian restaurant next door. It didn¡¯t smell bad on its own, but five hours under any variety of fried rice was enough to break even the strongest men.


    ¡°We¡¯re observing today. We move tomorrow, remember?¡±


    The Sapphire Lounge was bustling tonight. It was a Friday night so they hosted a live band playing pre-war dance music from the turn of the century. Academy students arrived in packs to wait in line for entrance. It was getting late in the evening and the line was starting to wrap around the corner. A girl wearing baggy jean shorts and two pony-tails shivered in the cold. Her boyfriend wore ragged blue jeans and a t-shirt with the letters ¡°Korn¡± written across the front in big, exaggerated letters. Remy shivered too and wondered where they found shirts that old. Pre-war clothing fetched a fine price with the right buyer. Probably had daddy replicate it from some picture.


    During their stake out, the goal was to watch for JD¡¯s own comings and goings, as well as any repeat individuals who might be persons of interest. Frank¡¯s plan called for infiltration as near to the lounge as possible, but a frontal assault hadn¡¯t been completely ruled out.


    A pair of academy age girls lifted their shirts to the bouncer and were admitted into the lounge. Remy pretended to wipe something from his eye at the time. Josie shot him a look letting him know that she wasn¡¯t fooled. Damned woman.


    ¡°Maybe we could do both. Observe and move, you know?¡± she said. ¡°Let me go in the front door and you can find another way around.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯ll you do once inside? You don¡¯t even know what you¡¯re looking for.¡±


    ¡°Only because you won¡¯t tell me. We¡¯re partners, remember?¡± She said for the fourteenth time in the past day. He had never regretted a commitment more in his life. Not only would he have to split Stefanie¡¯s purse with her at the end - which, truth be told, was a cheaper bargain than paying for a Shusher -, but he would have to reveal his closest companion was a woman whom he used to have a thing with. Stefanie didn¡¯t have time to mess with a guy who had that sort of complication. Colin wasn¡¯t really a concern - Remy was sure he was long dead - but Josie would be an entire cargo container full of complications.


    But Josie did have a point. No one had much use for a partner who didn¡¯t know her ass from a hole in the ground on a stake out. He reached into his inner pocket and pulled the folded honeymoon picture out.


    ¡°Here,¡± he said. ¡°This is Colin. We¡¯re trying to find him, and I think something in there will lead us to whatever¡¯s left of him.¡±


    Josie looked the picture over for a few moments and sucked her teeth.


    ¡°She¡¯s pretty.¡±


    No shit, Josie. Remy snatched the picture back from her and shoved it into his pocket again.


    ¡°She¡¯s the client, so let¡¯s just try to be professional and finish this off before we piss someone else off. I¡¯d like to et paid before I¡¯m killed, yeah?¡±


    Josie stepped out from under the garbage can and shook off the refuse. She ran fingers through her hair and down her clothes, wiping away anything remaining. Remy couldn¡¯t help but watch. It wasn¡¯t fair how quickly she could make herself presentable.


    ¡°I¡¯m going in to have a look.¡± She tossed her hair and threw him a wink. ¡°You going to be my date tonight?¡±


    Remy never really had a choice. Once Josie made up her mind, she made up her mind. Going along was the only way to maintain any semblance of control, no matter how small. He stepped out and flicked a handful of stray grains of rice from his arm. He¡¯d smell like that dumpster for a week.


    ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    They tucked their scanners away and approached the Lounge like any of the other dozen topsiders walking that way. Remy ran a hand over his face and regretted not shaving. He knew his face was brown going gray if the light caught it right. He hoped the dim light made it more the former than the latter today. They reached the line and he shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders.


    Two girls in front of them glanced back like he was their dad¡¯s leering friend who comes over with a six-pack of court-ordered non-alcoholic beer. They shifted closer to the guys in front of them in line. He gritted his teeth. What I wouldn¡¯t give for a glass of gin, he thought.


    ¡°This¡¯ll be fun, loosen up. Just some friends out for a drink like anyone else, you know?¡± Josie was the only person he¡¯d ever met who could crawl out of a literal garbage can and be ready for a night on the town. Remy didn¡¯t know if that was a compliment or not. She smiled widely and gripped his elbow tight. God, he could almost believe she was his date if he didn¡¯t know any better.


    ¡°What if they recognize me though? Cute girl at the bar and I chatted quite a bit last time before the manager had me tossed. I¡¯m wearing the same coat, too. Could be a short trip.¡±


    Josie checked her hair in a window as they shuffled forward in line but didn¡¯t respond. Well, I don¡¯t have the same hat, I guess. There was a different man working the door that night, for which Remy said a silent prayer.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Paying bribes was just part of a day¡¯s work, but bribes to some toothless wonder at the door felt like tossing credit chips into a toilet.


    The girls ahead of them entered the Lounge, and Remy and Josie were up next. The bouncer tonight was a meat head with a mohawk, a big golden nose ring, and an unmistakable lump behind his lip that quivered with each word. He looked like a villain from some old cartoon. Meat-head looked them up and down and spat brown juice on the cracked sidewalk.


    ¡°Student night. Go on up to Dave¡¯s if you want a drink.¡± He shook his head. What an ugly face. Meat-head only needed some a pair of outdated sunglasses to really sell the image.


    ¡°Well, yeah. We¡¯re grad students.¡± Josie didn¡¯t miss a beat. If there was anything more pathetic than lying your way into a student night at the Sapphire Lounge, it was pretending to be aging graduate students to do so.


    ¡°Getting one of them fake doctor degrees, eh?¡± Meat-head huffed an approximation of a laugh and held out a hand for credit chips.


    ¡°Something like that.¡± Remy handed him a pair of chips he hoped was enough. He tried to think of what course he could plausibly teach. Breaking and Entering for Beginners.


    Meat-head pocketed the chips and nodded them on.


    ¡°Go on in, then. Two for ones and Mad-juice pitchers.¡±


    Remy and Josie entered the Sapphire Lounge and the smell of old fried rice was carried away by the smell of sweaty co-eds and spilled drinks. He remembered them wearing shirts that covered far more skin when he was at academy. Josie cuffed him on the ear as he looked over the crowd.


    ¡°They could be your daughter, stop leering.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything.¡± He hated when Josie did that. She always knew what he thought, especially around women. Probably hadn¡¯t helped their relationship the last time either.


    ¡°You thought it loud enough. You going to buy a girl a drink or not?¡± She grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowd. The blue dancers still gyrated on tables throughout the bar, and Remy didn¡¯t recognize any from his previous visit. They squeezed between a man - a boy, more like - passed out on the bar next to a steel pillar. Remy scanned the bartenders and didn¡¯t see Haely. So far so good.


    Josie ordered them something that had far too much sugar in it and took all the cherry garnishes from Remy¡¯s drink before handing it to him. She leaned against the pillar and looked at the dance floor herself.


    ¡°How come you never took me to places like this?¡±


    ¡°I tried to leave places like this in the academy where they belong. You don¡¯t feel like you¡¯re someone¡¯s mom walking around here?¡±


    She shook her head, ¡°Nah, everyone likes to drink, why should it change when you¡¯re no longer sucking off a teaching assistant for your grades?¡±


    ¡°You know, we¡¯re supposed to be teaching assistants ourselves, right now.¡± She was the crudest woman, he¡¯d ever met. Stefanie was a lady, proper and respectful. Nothing like Josie.


    ¡°Oh, are we?¡± Josie winked at him and bopped her way out toward the dance floor.


    ¡°Damn it, Josie.¡± He muttered.


    They were here on business. Business for Stefanie. Stefanie was the client and her needs came first. Lingering on her needs proved as distracting as Josie, though.


    There were many dance floors in the Sapphire Lounge but the main bar¡¯s was the biggest. Of course, Josie found her place directly in the center, underneath a strobe drone pulsating colors to the music¡¯s. Remy stayed next to the pillar, sucking down his too-sweet cocktail.


    Remy didn¡¯t like this many people on the best day. Add in them all grinding their legs, asses, and assorted limbs on him combined with a thick leather trench coat and Remy was having a miserable time. Josie swung back out of the dance floor and smiled at him.


    ¡°Check it!¡± Josie said.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Your coat, go check it. Get me another one of these while you¡¯re at it.¡± She shook her lowball and ice clinked against the sides. Remy shook his head. He couldn¡¯t leave this coat in some room. There was about two centuries of hard time in his pockets and he had no intention of letting those Vascs out of his sight. She sighed and took his drink.


    ¡°Well, get something to cool yourself off then, I¡¯ll be here.¡± She winked again and pushed him back to the bar. Service at the bar was far slower for Remy than Josie. He tried not to take offense. Some guy in a tank top with a terrible tattoo running around his bicep finally noticed him and  brought over another too-fruity drink and a glass of gin. Better the piss you know than the piss you don¡¯t.


    The Sapphire Lounge was doing good business tonight. JD must be happy. He looked toward the back door where he¡¯d met the manager before and two large men who could¡¯ve been brothers with the doorman stood in front. Nothing said ¡°shady shit¡± like fat men with shaved heads standing with arms crossed in front of a door. Remy looked out over the dance floor and saw Josie winding up and down a man a decade her junior.


    ¡°Good for you, Jose.¡± He said into his gin. He meant it too. Maybe she¡¯d forget about their deal and leave with the guy. It would make his night a lot easier. Instead of going directly back onto the dance floor with its heat lamps and thirsty boys, Remy skirted the edge of the Sapphire Lounge and tried to scope the security situation.


    He noticed the cameras first. There were large ones with that retro pivoting look in each corner and he was sure there were a dozen more he couldn¡¯t see. Burly men bussed tables and tossed patrons who¡¯d had too much.


    Each carried a stun baton on their hip. Remy was confident at least one was carrying something more felonious and deadly too.


    He finished casing the last public room when it happened. A girl, she certainly wasn¡¯t a woman yet, had jumped onto a table with a blue dancer and decided to steal the show. She¡¯d had the talent, that was for sure.


    Unfortunately, Remy took that moment to run smack dab into the back of one of those burly men, spilling his fruity drink down the man¡¯s chest. Meat-head Two looked down at his stained shirt and back up at Remy. Meat-head Two¡¯s eyes lit in recognition.


    ¡°Fuck.¡±


    ¡°Wrong team, buddy.¡±


    Remy couldn¡¯t argue his case before the man had grabbed Remy¡¯s collar and dragged him from the room. He pushed past two other over-sized men and tossed him through an industrial door rusted down at its edges.


    ¡°Wait here, the boss will be with you in a minute.¡±


    Meat-head Two shut the door and Remy heard a click as it locked. They must have recognized him.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± He kicked the wall. He ran his hands over his face and rubbed his eyes roughly. ¡°Alright, Rem, think.¡±


    He flicked through the Vascs in his pocket. He¡¯d loaded a Force and carried cards for Volt, Fire, Quant, Aqua. Just the common ones. Nothing even above a second version. No sense losing something valuable on a scouting mission. Remy looked about the room for an exit. It was all steel, square and spartan. Guess it would be a run and gun kind of night.


    Meat-head Two opened the door again and Remy recognized JD standing behind him. Remy didn¡¯t waste any time. He thrust his left hand forward and Meat-head Two¡¯s eyes went wide as he was blown back into his boss.


    Remy pressed forward, stepping over the fallen bodies and onto the dance floor. The co-eds danced on through the commotion. There was no stopping someone who thought sex might be just a song away.


    "Stop him!¡± he heard JD yell from beneath Meat-head Two but Remy was already ducking under arms and through conversations toward the door. He glanced at Josie, intertwined with her boy, and was thankful that she hadn¡¯t been snatched yet either. Maybe she could get out without notice.


    Remy burst through the door and over a poor woman who was half his size.


    ¡°Sorry!¡± he apologized as he stepped over her into the street. He ran deeper into the undercity.


    So fucking stupid.

 Chapter 11: Sticky Floors and Locked Doors

    Josie had come home far too late for someone without a spare set of keys. Remy stumbled from bed to the door, bleary eyed and grasping at the fleeting remnants of a good dream. Somehow, he knew that Stefanie wouldn¡¯t be sitting on that table in her negligee when he came back. A skiff sped off into the distance and Josie giggled after it.


    ¡°Hey, stud.¡± She licked her lips and winked. One eye lagged behind the other and her lopsided grin was accented by a smear of cherry-red lip stick.


    ¡°Fuck, Josie, do you know what time it is? Where were you?¡± He was surprised he cared.


    Hiccup.


    ¡°I went with Dominic and them to a few other places nearby then they brought me home. I got you something!¡±


    She tried to step through the door and missed the raised step. She stumbled, falling into his arms. Cherry gum, sweat, and spilled drinks masked whatever remnants of perfume she still wore. He pulled her inside and shut the door.


    ¡°Mmmm, you smell like sleep. Did I wake you up? Why¡¯d you leave?¡±


    ¡°Well, you noticed I left, at least.¡± Every step was a trial. His couch seemed so far away but step by step, they progressed.


    ¡°Yeah, I saw you. But you seemed to have things in hand. You, you, got out.¡± He dropped her onto his couch and a key card clattered from her waist band to the floor. The throw blanket she had been using was piled up on the floor nearby and he retrieved the card while tossing the blanket on her. Dominic Doherty, Staff, Sapphire Lounge.


    He shook his head and tossed the card to the table nearby. Maybe the night hadn¡¯t been a total waste after all.


    ¡°You did good, Jose. We¡¯ve got a lot more to do tomorrow so you should sleep this off. Good night.¡±


    ¡°Kiss me,¡± she muttered. He sighed, rubbing his temples. This was what he was trying to avoid. Josie was just drunk, she didn¡¯t really want this, and he definitely didn¡¯t want to get mixed up with crazy again. He was still trying to work the angle on Stefanie and she wouldn¡¯t appreciate him kissing every girl that ended up on his couch. Besides, he would still have Stefanie in her underwear on a table when he closed his eyes again.


    ¡°I should go -¡±


    She reached up, quicker than he¡¯d thought she could move in her state, and grabbed the collar of his sleeping shirt to pull him down. Her lips tasted cherry, and too-sweet cocktails. He remembered those lips. Familiar, soft, and hungry. A man could get lost in lips like that. Remy didn¡¯t pull away and after a moment Josie released him.


    ¡°Okay, sleep now.¡± She rolled over, pulling the blanket tight around her. Remy staggered back to bed and closed his eyes hoping to find a different girl on the table in her negligee.


    ***


    ¡°You sure? I can do this by myself with the Keymaker¡¯s plan.¡± Remy had spent most of the afternoon trying to convince her not to come but Josie was unwavering despite her hangover. The girl had grit, no arguing that. They stood a few blocks from the Sapphire Lounge near a flickering street lamp and a boarded up food stand. Josie took a deep drag from a cigarette and passed it back to Remy.


    ¡°Just let me be a distraction then.¡± She always came back to that argument. ¡°If they¡¯re looking at me, that¡¯s fewer boys looking over their vaults.¡±


    Remy couldn¡¯t refute that but he didn¡¯t like it one bit. He didn¡¯t even know where the Sapphire Lounge¡¯s vault was let alone where the cameras were or who would be watching them. Having Josie as a distraction seemed like one of those ideas that would just create a bigger mess in the end. She smiled as he chewed his lip in defeat.


    ¡°Alright, give it to me one more time. Talk through it; you know where you need to be.¡± As her hangover faded, Josie played the cheerleader. Her memory, clogged though it was with sugar and rum, remembered where each camera was and her boy for the night - Dominic, a second-year student at the academy, he¡¯d learned - also worked at the Sapphire Lounge on the weekends. His loose lips helped plot out their night.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to pick the lock in the back alley off the street near the lake wall. I¡¯ll have my Volt active in the Vasc.¡± They decided that a Pheromone wouldn¡¯t do much good with any meat-heads that JD hired to guard the back rooms of Sapphire Lounge. Frank was cautious and recommended a Vasc that wouldn¡¯t be noticeable by the Redcaps if he encountered resistance. It had been a good idea, just one that he could cross off upon review.


    ¡°Once inside, I look for stairs down using the key card you lifted from that bartender.¡± The buildings around the Sapphire Lounge were owned by rival businesses and it seemed unlikely that they would agree to store sensitive material for JD¡¯s business. That really only left one direction. Hopefully, Dominic¡¯s stolen card would still work too.


    ¡°Once I find a room that looks like it could be storage, I¡¯ll look for the right number and enter the code from the picture. If it works, I¡¯ll take it, if not, I switch to Reverb and force my way in.¡±


    The streets of the undercity were empty on a Sunday evening. The Sapphire Lounge did a great amount of business on Friday and Saturday nights but, like everywhere else, Sunday¡¯s could be a bit desolate. Their plan depended on their staff to be similarly lacking.


    ¡°And I¡¯ll keep them busy up top.¡± Josie was proud of her contributions. Simple though they were. She¡¯d go onto the dance floor again and start requesting songs. Bouncers and workers were quick to chat on slow nights and if she noticed a rush to the back, a well-placed Volt could help even the playing field. She¡¯d loaded Pheromone to help persuade folks into keeping the attention on her. Given the grinning idiots she¡¯d interact with, no one was likely to suspect it.


    That was the thought anyway. All plans had merit until they didn¡¯t.


    Remy crushed the remains of the cigarette under his boot and sighed a wispy cloud of smoke.


    ¡°Sounds as good as anything else. I¡¯ll head right then. Be safe. I don¡¯t want you taking any risks that will mess this up.¡±


    ¡°You know me, Rem. See you on the other side.¡± She pinched his ass and walked toward the Sapphire Lounge with a wink.


    Remy shook his head, pulled up the collar on his coat and moved into the darkness of an alley.


    ***


    The door opened with the barest amount of lock picking. It was an old style lock that gave way to a few straight rods and a hook. Remy didn¡¯t know whether to be relieved or concerned that it gave way so easy.


    No going back now, he thought. Josie was up there.


    The back room was a squat dark square filled with shelves. Two other doors lurked in the deep shadows of each opposite corner. Feeling his way along the wall, Remy flipped a switch and a crackling light filled the room. The shelves were partially empty, holding assorted bottles of booze lining steel shelving units and little else. Remy was happy to find the room itself empty of any serving staff trying to restock for the night.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    He dropped into a crouch to inspect the floor around the two doors. One of them featured dozens of scuffs and scores from regular use. Remy chose the other one to proceed. He turned the handle slowly, but it remained firmly in place.


    Locked. He didn¡¯t see a card scanner or a place to try to pick a lock, either.


    ¡°So much for Dominic¡¯s key card,¡± he grumbled to himself. He sighed and reached into his pouch, fumbling through a stack of Vascs.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± Remy flexed his arm, preparing for the swap. This was going to hurt.


    It was pretty early in the night to be going off script but there wouldn¡¯t be a way through the door without swapping to Reverb. Once he did though, it would be a short trip before someone came searching for the sound of the door literally shaking itself apart. He¡¯d have to try a Shusher first. The Shusher¡¯s dampening field would last a few moments after he stopped actively using it. Hopefully, it would be enough to make a swap. He swapped in the Shusher for the Volt and waited a moment for it to load. The seconds took days to pass.


    He breathed deeply and focused on silence. Unlike many other Vascs, a Shusher was activated through thought instead of a gesture and many folk never quite got the hang of it. He thought hard about how quiet it would be. No one would be able to hear the door open. If he could load Reverb quick enough. No, he could. He had to. There really wasn¡¯t another choice.


    He felt a ripple through his body and was sure that the Shusher activated. Remy flexed his arm again, and counted down from three. At zero, he slapped the Vasc¡¯s release and swapped out the cards without waiting for the Vasculator to deactivate. His arm went numb and the number on his Vasculator quickly raced to zero.


    Remy couldn¡¯t feel his fingers touching the door, and his stomach sank with dread. His system was shot. It had been too much for one swap. A tingle jolted through his forefingers and he pulled back his hand. A thousand pins felt like they pressed upon it, but he could feel it!


    The door soon shook under its own weight. Faster and faster, it vibrated while Remy glanced back and forth with the Vasc¡¯s countdown.


    ¡°Come on, you bastard, go!¡± Remy whispered. The Shusher was nearly expired when the door shook off its hinges and clattered to the floor. He cringed at the sound hoping the unnatural silence had lasted long enough.


    The stairway down was lit with a pale blue light emitted by utility light bulbs near a hundred years old. The stairs didn¡¯t creak under his step but Remy was certain that he was entering a part of pre-war Madison that only a certain level of wealth or felony would give you access to. He¡¯d have to act quick. The cameras would be on and it wouldn¡¯t be long before someone showed up, even with Josie as a distraction upstairs.


    Remy swapped out the Reverb for the Volt again and crept down the stairs. He felt sluggish already and his arm tingled relentlessly. Reverb and Shusher were demanding programs and each muscle flexed a bit slower than it had previously. He¡¯d have to be careful. If he had to switch back to Reverb to get into a particular vault, there wouldn¡¯t be enough energy left to swap into anything else for escape.


    The room below was surprisingly spartan, empty except for lock boxes along each wall, three high and five wide. A serial number was scratched neatly into each. Remy pulled out the photograph and flipped it over.


    ¡°3122, 3122, 3122¡­¡± he murmured scanning the line of lock boxes. ¡°Hello, there¡­¡±


    The lock box was on the bottom right, so he squatted down to reach it. Remy bit his lip and entered the code. He hoped it didn¡¯t have fingerprint recognition. After a few beeps, the lock flashed green and swung open. Remy sighed, and adjusted his hat. This clue had had cost him far too much money and time. It better be worth it.


    He reached inside and pulled out a bundle of papers, some faded and yellow, obviously pre-war, wrapped in a cracked rubber band. Remy frowned, and couldn¡¯t help but feeling disappointed. No passports, no cash, no questionably legal Vascs, just a pile of papers. He stuffed the papers into a coat pocket. Either way, it was the best clue that he¡¯d managed to find in the four weeks since Stefanie put him on the case. There must be something in there. Had to be.


    Remy heard footsteps on the stairs behind him.


    ¡°Of fucking course,¡± he muttered. Nothing about this case was easy.


    ¡°Hey, what are you doing here?¡± Remy didn¡¯t think it would matter if he answered or not so he spun and held out his left arm where an arc of lightning leapt from his Volt. The first man slammed into the row of lock boxes behind him and slumped to the ground convulsing. Remy charged at the second man as he pulled a comms unit from his belt. They crashed to the ground before he could activate it. The device skidded across the floor, coming to a rest far from them. Remy tried to scramble to the stairs and was pulled back down with a single meaty hand. JD only hired the strongest and dumbest looking men for his bar.


    Remy¡¯s Volt recharged just in time to slam the hulking man into the ceiling and Remy rolled away before he fell back into the ground. The man landed with a grunt and Remy scrambled to his feet.


    So much for secrecy. He hoped Josie was having a better time. Remy made it halfway up the stairs before a burst of force hit him from behind and he crashed into the metal steps. He could hear the second guy he blasted regain his footing. The same meaty hand wrapped around his ankle and jerked him back, smacking his head on two steps as he slid down the stairs. Stars exploded before his eyes. Warm coppery blood filled his mouth.


    Remy kicked and twisted, rolling onto his back and breaking the man¡¯s grip. He pushed himself back up the steps, facing him.


    ¡°Come on, pal. You¡¯re gonna need to do better than that, yeah?¡± JD¡¯s man touched a thumb to a bloody spot on his lip and smiled.


    Remy smacked his Vasculator.


    Come on, charge damn it.


    The other man pulled out a knife and jumped toward Remy. He was quick despite his size and pinned Remy to the stairway. It was all he could do to bring his arms up and block the man¡¯s blow. The knife pressed closer to his throat each moment. Remy shifted underneath and deflected the knife to the side. It jabbed the stairs, metal screeching on metal, and he pulled the knife back to stab Remy once more.


    He wouldn¡¯t be able to hold it this time. He remembered all those New Year¡¯s Eves he¡¯d told himself and whatever damsel he had on his arm that this would be a year of betterment. A year of becoming stronger, maybe settling down and starting a family. They always believed it, but Remy never did. He regretted those lost promises. A family and an honest living looked a dream right now. The bright, industrial light of the stairway glinted off the knife¡¯s tip and Remy knew his neck wouldn¡¯t slow it much.


    His Vasculator twinged on his arm. Minimal charge would be good enough. It had to be. Remy unclenched his left hand and crackling arcs of lightning dashed over the short distance and danced along the man¡¯s face. Remy kicked back at the same time and the man fell down several stairs, scratching his face trying to pull the flickering electricity from his eyes. Remy ran, bleary-eyed and spitting blood.


    It was dark outside, of course. It was always dark when the sky was another city¡¯s sewers, but it was darker than usual. The lights in the alley were off and Remy could see the nearest street dimmed as well. Lights above the street still shined from shabby windows and behind curtains.


    ¡°Fuck.¡± He knew there was usually one reason a street, and only that one street, would blackout and it ended with him taking long, quiet vacation in the dirt.


    He did a mental inventory of his Vascs. A Force could push him up onto one of these rooftops, but he wasn¡¯t sure he could handle another swap. Volt would have to do. Laying unconscious in an alley from a bad swap wasn¡¯t going to do him any favors either.


    Remy ran. The boys he fought in the vault would be waking up or coming to their senses any minute and he would bet anything he owned that their first move would be to call for backup.


    It really was a difficult task running down back alleys in the dark. Remy stumbled over a trash pile and nearly knocked over a tower of stacked cinder blocks. He made it back to the main street and ran on, ignoring a growing tightness in his chest. Maybe I should lose a few pounds.


    A row of round lights flashed on at the end of the street, blinding him as he skidded to a stop. Remy brought his hand up to cover his eyes.


    ¡°Remy St. Claire. I wasn¡¯t aware you had further business with the Sapphire Lounge.¡± He knew JD¡¯s voice. Must be one of those black outlines in front of the light.


    ¡°Good seeing you here, JD.¡± Remy didn¡¯t really know what else to say. He certainly wasn¡¯t talking his way out of this one and fighting on a depleted Vasculator would go over like a lead balloon. He counted seven sets of lights. Could be anywhere from ten to twenty-eight fellas back there. Too many even on a good day. He hoped Josie had taken the chance to get out before they figured it out.


    ¡°Think you got something of mine. Now, be a good boy and give it -¡± JD never finished that thought as one of his Skiffs erupted into a fireball throwing the black figures and Remy himself onto the broken pavement.


    Old style gun fire erupted from a side street that Remy couldn¡¯t see. Most of the shots ricocheted off pavement or steel but a few screams told him that those shots found their mark.


    ¡°Ambush, move!¡± JD, Remy assumed he was the lead figure, crouched and ran for cover. Flashes from his gang¡¯s return fire lit up the darkened street. Half were holding the same old style weaponry while others flashed Vascs.


    A pair of hands landed on his back and he heard a familiar voice.


    ¡°Time to go,¡± Josie said.


    ¡°Josie! Where did you come from?¡±


    He hadn¡¯t heard her approach.


    ¡°Just trust me, come on!¡±


    He realized that he did. She helped him to his feet and followed her down the street. He didn¡¯t know where she came from or what was happening but a miracle was a miracle and Remy didn¡¯t care who had granted it.

 Chapter 12: Coffeehouse Vibes

    The last man in New Madison that Remy wanted to owe another favor found himself with a mighty big favor thanks to Josie.


    ¡°Happy fucking Jack.¡± He spat into the snowbank outside his apartment. Sure, Jack¡¯s goons showing up had saved his life down in that dark alley, but a favor to Happy Jack would most likely just cost him that same life later. Later was better than sooner but it wasn¡¯t a trade he was excited to make.


    He fumed to himself as his skiff pulled around from the garage. Josie had never even went into the Sapphire Lounge. She had turned a corner, hopped into a parked skiff and went straight to Jack¡¯s. Of course, the man had been more than happy to hit JD when he was distracted. Business was business.


    She¡¯d been too coy with Remy on the price of Jack¡¯s help, too. As always, favors were worth more than credits.


    ¡°Can¡¯t believe I trusted her with this,¡± he said, soaring over the New Madison skyline. Remy shook his head and sighed. No sense dwelling on this now. The job was done and he would pay whatever was owed when it came due. If it never did, all the better.


    Josie waited at home while he went to meet Stefanie over coffee. Remy could use something stiffer but Stefanie had suggested coffee, so coffee would have to do. The coffee house was midway to the west side of the city, and tucked into the first floor of a sprawling apartment complex with terraced forests and gardens. Snow dusted the barren trees and some residents strung up many colored lights around the evergreens.


    She waited for him at a table near the window with two steaming mugs and a smile just as warm. Remy brushed the snow from his shoulders and set his hat on the window ledge. Stefanie flicked lush reddish-gold hair over her shoulder and cocked her head toward him.


    ¡°You look like a man with something to say.¡± Those eyes pierced through him. He¡¯d been thinking about how he would tell her. Remy had looked through the wad of paper from the Sapphire Lounge trying to make sense of it. Stefanie smiled and he just started talking.


    ¡°I think I have something. A few weeks ago, I went back to Colin¡¯s office looking for clues and found something I missed before. A photo, you and him on some beach?¡±


    Stefanie nodded, ¡°I remember he had that on his desk. We¡¯d just been married and he won some big case.¡± Remy didn¡¯t really want to linger on her good memories with her husband.


    ¡°Yeah, so on the back of that, there was a note pointing me to the Sapphire Lounge in the undercity. Any significance to that?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°Never been there. Colin sometimes liked to blow off steam in the undercity with the other guys at the office though so it¡¯s not surprising. Did you go there?¡±


    ¡°Well, the scribblings also pointed toward a lock box with a pass code.¡± He pulled the stack of papers from his pocket and placed them on the table. ¡°Took a few tries but here¡¯s what I found.¡± Remy watched her reaction but her composure didn¡¯t crack. It was relieving. Maybe she wasn¡¯t in as deep as her husband. Maybe she didn¡¯t know anything about Colin¡¯s other business at all. With the papers out of his hands, Remy breathed deeply, taking in the coffee shop. The entire place smelled like roasted beans, cinnamon, and that earthy wetness of snow melting on patron¡¯s boots. Remy felt at peace for the first time in weeks.


    She fingered the top documents and skimmed them. After a moment, she glanced up at him.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    ¡°What do they say? Do they say where he is?¡±


    Remy shifted and took a big drink of the coffee. The still steaming drink burned his tongue but he needed to buy the extra time. Better to speak plainly and deal with it later. Stefanie would understand, but it killed him to hurt those bright green eyes. If she cried¡­ Well, he had no idea what he would do then but it might break him too. Disappointing her was unthinkable.


    ¡°I think there¡¯s a good chance he¡¯s dead, Stefanie.¡±


    To her credit, she set her jaw and slacked back into her chair. Some people didn¡¯t handle the news of a death very well and cried, made a scene, and let it drag them down for weeks, or years. Others set their jaw, shoved it deep down, and didn¡¯t let it out. Remy supposed the news scarred a person in either case but he preferred to work with people who responded in the latter fashion. It certainly made his own life easier. Remy sipped at his coffee. It still smelled good but he couldn¡¯t taste it for shit with a burnt tongue.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Stef. I didn¡¯t know how to tell you so I thought I¡¯d come right out and say it. Colin was in deep with some bad people.¡±


    Stefanie didn¡¯t say anything. It was better than some alternatives, of course, but Remy wanted to desperately fill the space. Idle chatter of other customers and holiday music was uncomfortable background noise for talking about her late husband¡¯s crimes.


    ¡°So what now?¡± She finally broke their silence. Remy picked at his fingernails and twisted his lips.


    ¡°That¡¯s up to you. Way I see it, we got two options.¡± He held out one finger. ¡°I could keep going and see what else is there. Maybe find some proof if he¡¯s actually¡­gone. Or at least, what the rest of his business was.¡± He extended a second one. ¡°Or, we end it here and walk away. Looking at these papers, this could end up being more trouble than we¡¯d care to find for ourselves.¡±


    There were other options, of course. Remy figured one way or another, he¡¯d be spending most of his payment on damage control. He¡¯d worked with folks in the two big undercity gangs before out of necessity. But probing into either one¡¯s legal representations seemed like a sure fire way to suck-start a rifle. He wondered if Happy Jack would take JD¡¯s legal records as payback. God knows he didn¡¯t want it for himself.


    Stefanie remembered her own cup of coffee and nursed it. Tears welled in her eyes like rain drops, but somehow they didn¡¯t fall. Remy bit his lip, urgently hoping they remained there.


    ¡°I understand if you don¡¯t want to continue. You¡¯ve done more than enough.¡± She slid a creased envelope across the table. ¡°Here¡¯s your payment.¡±


    It would be really easy to take it and walk away. That envelope had enough credit chips inside to last him a year if he was careful, even after accounting for his costs. He¡¯d done his job, she said it herself. Business was business and theirs was through. Instead, he said something else.


    ¡°Sure, but you¡¯d like to keep digging, right?¡±


    She smiled briefly and nodded. ¡°I do. If Colin was up to something¡­dangerous¡­then it could affect me later, right? I¡¯d rather know now. So I can protect myself, you know?¡±


    It was sound logic. Colin¡¯s work with JD had been as seedy as any lawyer Remy¡¯d known. Without some more answers, Stefanie could still be in danger. Besides, he thought, she has a strong jaw and stiff eyes now but maybe later, she¡¯d need a shoulder to cry on. He could be that guy. Remy felt guilty thinking about winning over a widowed woman over the course of her husband¡¯s murder investigation. That feeling would pass. Guilt usually did and a woman¡¯s arms helped.


    ¡°I¡¯d pay, of course. Whatever Colin did for these people, he was paid well for it and I have most of that. I appreciate you and will definitely make it worth your time.¡± She smiled across the table and reached for his hand. She took it and squeezed. Ha! She was trying to reassure him. What a woman. Able to smile after this sort of news. He wouldn¡¯t be comforting her, he knew. A woman like that didn¡¯t need a guy like him to cry on. He pocketed the first envelope and finished his coffee.


    ¡°The papers identify a few of JD¡¯s warehouses. I think I¡¯ll start there.¡± Remy stood up and replaced his hat. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do. Let¡¯s talk again next week.¡±


    The bells clinked on the door as he left and the cold winter¡¯s breeze brushed off the lingering scents of the coffee shop. Robbing an unsuspecting bar was one thing. A couple fortified warehouses was something else entirely.


    Maybe Josie would have a thought for how to do it without getting killed.

 Chapter 13: A Happy Arrangement

    ¡°Remy St. Claire, and Josephine O¡¯Malley, why, it truly is my pleasure to see you. Why don¡¯t y¡¯all have a seat and my boys will rustle us up some drinks. Tanner, go and fix our friends something from the bar. Go on, now.¡± Happy Jack sat behind a large wooden desk engraved with vines and trees polished to a dark shine. He claimed he¡¯d procured it at great expense from the old governor¡¯s office. War eagles inlaid with gold nested in the engraved trees upon the top. Remy was inclined to believe him.


    The man himself was dressed in a fine white suit with a wide-brimmed hat much like Remy¡¯s own but also a crisp white. He held a glass of a brown liquor in one hand and rapped his fingers along the war eagles on his desk, a thick smoldering cigar held between fingers..


    ¡°Now, I am sorry about taking your Vascs. Safety and all. Mel seems to think I¡¯m reckless with my health. She won¡¯t let me even sniff at that real cheese anymore, let alone let folks such as y¡¯all walk in with working Vascs, you understand. You¡¯ll get them back, of course, I¡¯m no thief.¡± Happy Jack drawled his words out, like a jar of molasses spilling across a table.


    Just spit it out, man. Remy had always hated the accent.


    He and Josie took seats in high backed chairs across the desk from Jack. Behind Jack, narrow slits let in dim artificial light that struggled through the swirling haze of Jack¡¯s cigar. The smoky light was regularly broken by a slow twirling fan blade. Remy scratched at his left arm where he had worn his Vasculator. He had grown used to the near constant dull thrumming just above his wrist.


    ¡°I hear I owe you for the other night, Jack. Thanks for that.¡±


    Tanner came back with two short glasses of brown liquor surrounding a single large ice cube. He set them on slate coasters in front of Remy and Josie and returned to his place at the side of the room, lounging on a couch where he could have a clear shot at either of them if they tried anything too sudden. Jack nodded and swirled his own glass slowly.


    ¡°Much obliged, Remy. Our interests aligned and I¡¯m pleased as punch to have been of service. I¡¯ve always taken a shine to you, Remy, even if some of my boys think I¡¯m too soft. Shine or no, I don¡¯t take debts lightly. A man¡¯s word is his bond, after all and so, as I know you¡¯re a stand-up gentleman, you¡¯ll repay me in a fitting manner.¡± He raised his glass in a mock toast and sipped.


    Happy Jack was full of shit. The accent, look, everything was just that, a look. Remy didn¡¯t begrudge him that, it was a signature of sorts, but it wore on a man. Playing a southern gentleman who said ¡°I own you now¡± in pretty words was especially crass, even for Jack.


    ¡°Maybe I can even the score today and we can go back to just being friends, eh?¡± Remy pulled the stack of Colin¡¯s papers from an inner pocket and dropped them onto the desk. He noticed Jack tense as his hand disappeared into his jacket. Remy smiled. Jack¡¯s discomfort made his own more manageable.


    ¡°What¡¯s that, then? I¡¯m afraid my eyes aren¡¯t what they used to be.¡± Jack reached for the papers and unfolded them slowly.


    ¡°Found that beneath the Sapphire Lounge. If you hadn¡¯t come by, I would be dead, so I figure you own this as much as me.¡± He took a sip to wet his tongue. The drink was good. He¡¯d tried bourbon before at the School House but Luis¡¯s booze was gasoline compared to this. It might actually have been gasoline knowing Luis. He continued. ¡°Warehouses, drop points, what he¡¯s paid to each judge, so on. Lawyer records.¡±


    Jack barked a low rumbling laugh and his namesake grin sprawled across his face. ¡°Well, my pappy always said that if you had a room of lawyers covered up to their necks in concrete, you didn¡¯t use enough concrete. What happened to this guy, then? This, Colin Adelaide, is it?¡±


    Remy shrugged. ¡°I just have the papers. No one, no one that¡¯ll talk to me at least, seems to know where he is. The last dated papers aren¡¯t complete. They¡¯ve been blacked out in spots, but it looks like he was exchanging letters with a company called Denominator Incorporated. Heard of them?¡±


    Jack¡¯s smiled faded to a soft frown. ¡°What was that name again, son?¡±


    Fuck you, Jack, you¡¯re the same age as me. Well, maybe. Fine suits and dim lighting could add or take away a dozen years.


    ¡°Denominator Incorporated. I couldn¡¯t find much on them. Mean something to you?¡± Remy watched Jack read through a couple pages, his frown deepening.


    Bad eyesight, my ass.


    ¡°Well, if I wasn¡¯t such a trusting man, it would seem like JD¡¯s trying to cut us out of our arrangement.¡± Jack flicked his fingers in the air and Tanner came to his side. Jack whispered into his ear and Tanner scuttled out of the room.


    ¡°What arrangement? What¡¯s Denominator do?¡±


    ¡°Vascorp.¡± Josie leaned over and whispered. ¡°It¡¯s one of their fronts.¡± Remy turned to her and scowled.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say that earlier?¡± He whispered back through tight teeth.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t read all the documents, that was your job. You should¡¯ve asked.¡±


    Impossible woman. He shook his head and turned back to Jack.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s what¡¯s in the documents, at least. You can have them. All of them. Do what you want with them but we¡¯re square, alright?¡±


    Jack considered him for a moment, tapping a long finger against his lips. Finally, he nodded and folded the papers once more.


    ¡°Well, I reckon that¡¯s a fair bargain, Remy, but I do require one other service from you, if you¡¯ll oblige me, of course.¡±


    Of course.


    ¡°And what¡¯s that, Jack?¡± Remy sighed.


    Just shoot me and get this over with.


    ¡°You also will race the Beltrider this year as a freelancer.¡±


    Remy¡¯s heart stopped.


    ¡°No way.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Josie replied at the same time. He turned to her with wide eyes.


    ¡°The Beltrider? Don¡¯t you think a bullet right here would just be a quicker means to that end?¡±


    Jack held up a hand before Josie could respond.


    ¡°Well, Remy, I¡¯ll be frank with you, because I know you¡¯d do me the same courtesy. You¡¯re going to say yes here because otherwise I will be giving that bullet you asked for to the both of y¡¯all and I¡¯d rather Tanner not spend the afternoon cleaning my rugs.¡±


    The Beltrider. He¡¯d never even been in a speed-skiff, let alone a combat model. He glowered at Josie. Going places with her was like juggling hand grenades with no pins.


    Remy rubbed his face with the palm of his hands and tilted his head back.


    ¡°Well, I guess you have a team then, Jack. You providing the skiff?¡± He sure didn¡¯t have the money to buy one fresh and it would take weeks to build one. Weeks they didn¡¯t have. Jack smiled back broadly, insufferably.


    ¡°Of course, I am not just sending you out here to die, you understand. Now, as to the why, I think you¡¯ll understand your role more clearly once the race is underway. I trust your instincts, son, even if I do have to pull you from the fire once in a moon.¡± Jack stood and turned to place the stack of stolen papers in a drawer at the side of the room. Remy knew a dismissal when he saw one.


    ¡°Thanks for the hospitality, Jack. As always, it¡¯s been a treat.¡± Remy slammed back the drink, no sense for good booze to go to waste, and turned to leave. Josie was at his elbow. Remy held back his exasperation enough to hold the door for her first. Jack chuckled, gesturing at the pair with his thick cigar.


    ¡°Remy, I do envy you. A woman like Josephine does a man like you some good. You are as skittish as a bullfrog in July. Woman like that is soothing to a man¡¯s soul.¡±


    What the fuck was a bullfrog?


    Soothing was certainly not how Remy would describe any of his experiences with Josie.


    ¡°Do you want her? I¡¯m open to offers.¡±


    Jack shrugged and laughed again.


    ¡°Oh no, I¡¯m afraid a woman like that won¡¯t be held back by the likes of us sinners. It is better to watch a fire from a far than be burned up in her path, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Remy shut the door behind him and sulked out. He¡¯d been thinking the same thing.


    ***


    The Beltrider was one of the oldest traditions of the undercity. Drugs, weapons, and violence were hallmarks of the organized gangs struggle with each other but they¡¯d realized soon after the revolution that it was simply much more profitable to split up the pie. So now, they tried to get along most of the time as opposed to just fighting on the street one day and hoping not to get shot the next. Sure, there was occasionally flare ups - Jack hitting JD¡¯s crew on his behalf being a glaring example - but it was too profitable to go back to open war. More recently, JD and Happy Jack used it to see who had first crack at Vasc transit.


    The rules were simple. Two people per skiff, three laps around the old Madison expressway, one winner. Sabotage, foul play, and mischief was generally encouraged, particularly by new faces trying to make a name for themselves. Jack himself was once a freelancer skiff pilot, building his syndicate after a surprise win some twenty years back.


    ¡°I assume you¡¯re driving, eh?¡± Remy asked Josie over a dinner of cheap and generic Asian cuisine with too much sugar. He was having replicated chicken in a sticky sweet sauce while she picked at a fusion plate of Asian flavors and spicy South American rices.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re not driving, that¡¯s for sure. Jack will give us something decent if he¡¯s bothering to put us in there at all. It¡¯s going to be on you to keep them distracted then.¡±


    Remy pushed the reddish chicken blobs around his plate. ¡°Oh yeah, I¡¯ll sing a little number and flash jazz hands. It¡¯ll be a treat.¡±


    They ate in sullen silence with the television on mute. The news was dreary enough to watch and they didn¡¯t need those words to further detract from the mood.


    ¡°Have you ever tried a Displacer?¡± Josie asked quietly. He shook his head and she pulled her duffel bag closer. She flicked through a large plastic case and tossed him a chip with a box and a second distorted box next to it.


    ¡°It¡¯s a bitch to load so you should do it a day or so before actually trying to use it. Might save us if you can use it when it counts.¡±


    Remy flipped it over in his fingers. Displacement was hard. Harder than focusing a burst of lightning and much harder than trying to push something with wind. He¡¯d never tried it before but he¡¯d always wanted to try one. He should¡¯ve known Josie would know where to get one.


    ¡°Jesus, Jose, what else do you have in there?¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°Nothing much that¡¯ll help in the race. Shade, Gills, various flavor and voice modifiers, Hibernation, Quants, etc.¡± Josie trailed off.


    It was enough to put her away for a few lifetimes if they weren¡¯t registered - the Shade alone would be a lifetime or more - but they wouldn¡¯t be a big help on the Beltrider.


    ¡°What will you be loading? Volt?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m actually thinking Quant. With the speed we¡¯ll be going, I think the extra mental calculations will help us not end up splattered on the wall of a burnt out factory. Plus, it¡¯s low-drain and I could swap into something else for an emergency. My system has always been pretty good for that.¡±


    ¡°Mmmmm.¡± He nodded, fingering the Displacer card. It was a good idea. A Quant-enhanced pilot would be almost as good as pure AI and in a race like the Beltrider, a lot better at being proactive when needed.


    ¡°So we¡¯re trusting our weaponry to whatever Jack puts on our skiff, eh?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Guess so.¡± She nodded.


    They finished dinner just as the news ended and Remy cleaned the plates from the living room table. He pulled a beer from the refrigerator and settled onto the couch. Josie joined him with a beer of her own. Remy grabbed a fortune cookie off the table and cracked it open to read his fate out loud.


    ¡°Your worth will soon be seen.¡±


    He laughed to keep down the bile rising in his gut.

 Chapter 14: Exhaust Fumes and Cheap Cigarettes

    Gasoline, exhaust fumes, and cheap cigarettes. A parking lot buckled from age and disuse was full of vehicles and their teams preparing for the race. Remy burnt through his second cigarette of the night and lit another one, trying to ignore the tremble in his fingers as he lifted it to his lips.


    Josie was underneath their borrowed skiff clanging away with a wrench and a spot welder. Jack had assured them it was in tip-top condition but Jack wasn¡¯t the one who was going to be cruising through the air at four hundred kilometers per hour on it so Josie¡¯s inspection seemed like a prudent choice. Josie was a crack mechanic but there wasn¡¯t any amount of assurances that would make him feel good about flying this thing.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a bad feeling about this.¡± He muttered around his cigarette. He¡¯d been hesitant to light the first one with all the fuel just waiting for the right spark but everyone seemed to accept that risk so Remy sucked through his own to keep pace. Alternatively, if the parking lot went up in flames, he could just skip the race and die right here. It wasn¡¯t unappealing given the choice.


    ¡°What?¡± Josie asked from under the skiff. She couldn¡¯t hear half of what he said but he could clearly hear her chomping gum through two tons of steel and plastic. He could hear that sound in his sleep.


    ¡°Nothing. How¡¯s it looking?¡±


    ¡°Just a bit more¡­there.¡± She slid out from under and raised a hand for Remy to help her up. Josie had taken off her racing jacket to work and her white undershirt was splotched with oil and other fluids that Remy hadn¡¯t ever bothered learning. Maybe it was just pre-race adrenaline or the certainty of his coming death in a fiery wreck, but Josie looked good. Real good. He almost told her so but she smacked her gum as he started and he regained his senses. Josie did look good, but he¡¯d had that before and it had ended for a reason. Good reasons. Impending death was no reason to revisit that decision.


    ¡°So what, now we wait?¡± Remy was almost through his cigarette and fumbled for a third.


    ¡°We wait.¡± She confirmed, taking the unlit cigarette from his hand and lighting it for herself. ¡°Should be lining up within the next ten minutes or so.¡±


    The other teams milled about much like he was. They smoked, some laughed, and everyone was eying up their competition. Remy wondered who would be the skiff that took them out. Which ones would he kill tonight? He tried not to think about that. Killing wasn¡¯t part of his job description.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    He checked his Vasculator again and flexed his fingers. Not that he needed to, of course. It was as set as it had been for two days. Though his didn¡¯t display the tell-tale holographic sign of which Vasc he was using - Josie¡¯s stealth modification took care of that - the Displacer was locked in and active.


    Josie had been right about activating it a day or two early just in case. He¡¯d been nearly bedridden for an entire day after plugging it in. Josie had laughed at him trying to crawl to the bathroom to puke up whatever he¡¯d managed to keep down. Remy knew he didn¡¯t have the most robust Vascular system but it had hit him harder than anything else ever had. Now that it was loaded, they should be able to get a few uses out of it but swapping to a different Vasc would be pushing it. Sticking to the Displacer meant a defensive race with good driving from Josie and a displacement or two if absolutely necessary. Defense wins championships, he supposed.


    Josie was right about the race¡¯s timing and the teams began pulling their skiffs into position. He strapped himself into the rear seat and turned on the displays. The anti-gravity unit whirred to life underneath him and they rocked into the air. Josie set them down again on the old highway next to another freelancer team occupied by two large men with nose rings. Their skiff was, at one time red, but paint had flaked off and replacement parts now dotted the vehicle. In crude and shaky handwriting someone had written ¡°ROAD HOGS¡± in spray paint across the side.


    Remy was checking their weapons systems when a message popped up on his display.


    ¡°You seeing this?¡± He frowned.


    ¡°Yeah, I got one on my screen too,¡± Josie said.


    Instructions from Happy Jack. A list of skiffs that were officially JD¡¯s and those that were suspected hires. Like Josie and me, Remy thought, but for the other guy. Don¡¯t take out JD¡¯s guy directly, but try to keep the hires at bay. He glanced back at the two fat men in their skiff. The Road Hogs were on the list. He wondered if they had a similar list with his own name on it. They almost certainly did.


    A sleek skiff painted bright yellow dropped into place and the line-up was set. Josie and Remy were near the back, with the other first time racers and freelancers unaffiliated with sponsors. Jack¡¯s sanctioned vehicle, a blue and green skiff piloted by a grim looking woman and an equally grim man, was near the front. It looked more like a cannon with engines than a skiff.


    Josie whirred the anti-gravity repulsers back to life and revved the throttle in place. Remy¡¯s heart pounded along with the skiff¡¯s vibration. Combustion engines powering anti-gravity units gave racing skiffs a different feel than the all-fusion based cores of normal skiffs. The craft rumbled beneath him and exhaust fumes were intoxicating. He could see how people could get addicted to the feeling like a drug. It felt powerful and wild. The smell was oddly invigorating. He tensed as a floating sign counted down to the start.


    ¡°You ready?¡± Josie¡¯s voice crackled in his ear piece.


    ¡°No, but let¡¯s fucking do it.¡± He shook his head and gripped the weapon controls with sweaty palms.


    The display reached zero and a siren sounded. Josie jammed the throttle forward and Remy held on for dear life.

 Chapter 15: The Beltrider

    The roar was deafening, even with head gear. Two dozen skiffs screamed to life, barreling down the initial straight away on the course. A skiff¡¯s top speed was over four hundred kilometers per hour but these custom ones could do even better. He was grateful that there were only a few straight aways that allowed for that sort of speed.


    Remy thought his eyes were going to push through the back of his head as he struggled to focus on what was happening around them. Josie darted left, shot around a skiff and settled in to draft behind the next one. Her hands moved like they had a mind of their own, aided by her Quant Vasc. He¡¯d always felt queasy using a Quant like his brain worked faster than he himself could think about it, but he was sure glad Josie could use it now.


    The Road Hogs re-appeared on their right and came up on Remy¡¯s side, dangerously close to brushing against their skiff. Their gunner locked eyes with Remy and held his hand up like it was a gun and blew a kiss at Remy. Looks like they have a list of their own. Remy was thankful they¡¯d have at least a lap to separate.


    Racing was dangerous enough without cannons or murderous pilots ramming into you, so the Beltrider had rules to ensure not everyone died in the opening straight away. That would just spoil the fun. For the first lap, that meant no offensive Vascs, no weapons, and no ramming. This allowed some measure of separation and gave the good pilots a chance to get their gunners into a better position. Starting in lap two, things progressively became more deadly until the fifth lap where everything was allowed. There had been a big dust-up a few years back when a freelancer didn¡¯t play by the rules and Volted one of Jack¡¯s drivers during the first lap. The others forced the offending skiff to the ground where Jack himself had gotten a hold of him and made a nice show out of cutting him up slowly. All the other gangs attended the butchery with their crews, showing solidarity. Honor among thieves, he supposed.


    Josie didn¡¯t say anything and Remy just tried to hold on to his lunch. They soared over collapsed bridges and between dark buildings abandoned long ago. Some parts of the undercity thrived and were nearly as safe as New Madison proper, while other areas were left unclaimed and fit only for rat warrens and the truly desperate. The pack of racers was still thick, and Remy was amazed that there wasn¡¯t more incidental contact between racers. Jack¡¯s main ride took an early lead but two of JD¡¯s freelancers were close behind. Drones with cameras zipped alongside the front-runners capturing the race for the amusement of everyone with their feet firmly on the ground.


    The drifted around the first corner and approached the cavernous opening in the side of a warehouse. Somebody had built the gargantuan warehouse before the revolution and no one had had the money to do anything with it since. The Beltrider took racers through derelict processing rooms, transportation corridors and loading docks before funneling them out through the launch port on the north end where only two skiffs could fit through at a time.


    Remy thought his teeth would shatter from clenching. Josie dipped and duck around thick concrete columns and machinery. Only lights from the skiffs themselves and the camera drones lit their path beyond a simple string of red beacon lights marking the path. It was a nightmare of roaring engines, dancing lights, and dizzying turns. He tried to follow their path but soon gave up, and focused simply on breathing to get his heart under control. All those cigarettes and a gin-centered diet hadn¡¯t done him any favors there, and it thumped away like a hammer.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    They rounded the last corner and Remy could see a sliver of light at the end of the corridor marking the launch port. The leaders dipped out but the fourth skiff came in too tight and clipped the edge of the opening. It burst into a fireball and Remy cried out.


    ¡°Watch it!¡±


    Josie hit the throttle instead of slowing down. Remy ducked as they rumbled through the fire and its turbulence. He glanced back at the monstrous concrete opening dancing with flames.


    ¡°Did the grav unit blow?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Josie said through gritted teeth. Remy gulped and shook his head. Hopefully, the wrecked skiff¡¯s anti-gravity unit would blow before they came back around. It would just be a ticking bomb until then. The undercity was dark, but Remy was surprised how bright it was compared to the warehouse¡¯s depths. In the dim lighting, he could clearly see that only three skiffs made it out of the warehouse ahead of them. The warehouse would¡¯ve been disastrous to anyone not running a Quant-enhanced pilot or without the money for corrective AI units.


    They roared over a dusty field on the east side of the city, the ruins of the old capital dome glittering in the distance between the foundations of the surface towers. The passed through the runway of a burnt out airport and the capital view disappeared behind the holding tank of the largest lake.


    The back stretch of the race wedged in between the holding tank and the foundations of the Ghostfence to the north. Long dead redwood trees towered hundreds of feet into the air and the skiffs zoomed between their monstrous trunks. Remy had taken a date here once. It was tough to believe any tree could grow to be that big and the girl had been suitably impressed. The date had been good, the sex had been better, but the relationship was terrible.


    The maze of skeletal trunks was better than the warehouse if only because he could see when a branch was about to destroy their skiff. His gut lurched with each sudden movement. Throughout the forest of petrified trees, giants leaned on their neighbors and small patches opened up where trees had fallen in previous Beltriders or simply by nature. Josie poked them out the other side of the forest, having gained no ground on the leaders. Remy watched his screens and saw a handful of skiffs getting closer behind them. Lap two would bring out the Vascs and things would start getting messy, especially without offensive ones of their own.


    They rounded the northwest edge of the lake¡¯s tank and jumped back onto the ruins of the ancient broken highway. The final feature of the course took the skiffs winding around the foundations of New Madison¡¯s west side towers before emptying onto the southern straightaway which carried them over the finish line. After zipping through the warehouse and darting around the branches of gargantuan trees, slaloming large and obvious buildings was practically relaxing.


    Remy¡¯s relaxation was short-lived as they came onto the straight away and Josie pushed the throttle to full once more. He rubbed his hands together and took as deep a breath as he could manage. Two beeps in their headsets confirmed.


    Lap two.

 Chapter 16: Displacement

    Remy thanked whatever was watching over him that Jack had provided basic circuitry shielding on their skiff because two powerful Volts struck them as soon as they crossed the lap line. The electricity raced in arcs over the skiff¡¯s surface and his panels flickered. Their attackers surged past as their speed faltered. Remy recognized the Road Hogs dart on the right.


    ¡°Can you spin them in the warehouse?¡± Remy asked over his headset. The Displacer wouldn¡¯t really help in the open air but in the tighter confines of the warehouse, redwoods, or foundations, a split second was all they needed. Out here in the open, they needed Josie¡¯s speed and quick reactions to make sure they lived that long.


    If Remy was completely honest with himself, they needed Josie to be great in just about everything. Remy was more or less replaceable. It wasn¡¯t bad to be replaceable. Just meant that if he fucked up, it wouldn¡¯t completely end their chances at surviving this thing. Josie didn¡¯t have that luxury.


    ¡°Mark them.¡± She responded through gritted teeth. Remy selected the Road Hogs skiff on his forward display and double tapped. A green targeting reticle surrounded it for Josie to follow.


    They roared down the straight away, dipping and ducking under stray volts or jets of fire. The Road Hogs maintained a short lead but no one else crept up on them. Remy spied a larger bunch a half mile behind them but they stayed tight, lighting jumping between craft. They rounded the first corner and the warehouse¡¯s dark maw loomed ahead.


    Conveyor belts, packing robots, and rusted out delivery trucks littered the floor below and echoed their passage throughout the warehouse¡¯s nooks and crannies. The Road Hogs were close ahead and moving slower than Josie, their craft jerking from left to right at the last instance. They¡¯re both using Volts, he realized. No Quants. This section was a death trap for racers like them.


    Josie seemed to have have had the same realization and brought them up to the tail of the Road Hogs and hung close without passing. Remy squeezed his eyes shut to avoid screaming and his knuckles ached from gripping the controls. They rose to a new corridor, then plummeted four stories and swerved right into another channel. Remy peeked and found the Road Hogs within spitting distance. Josie pulled to the left and a Volt raced past them.


    The nose of their skiff bumped into the left side of the Road Hogs and Remy gripped the edge of his console for dear life. Josie pushed the throttle to max and slammed them hard to the right as they approached a sharp turn.


    It was over before the Road Hogs could respond. Remy felt the other skiff push back on them but without a Quant guiding the controls, they never stood a chance. The turn came too quick and Mr. Nose Ring careened into the concrete barrier as probes paused to capture the carnage for the spectators. Remy shielded his eyes from the flying debris but Josie was already moving them along the corridor, accelerating to catch the next ones. A skiff wreck smoked in front of the aperture but they sped through it and out into the cool undercity air.


    A notification popped up on their screens. Remy read it aloud so Josie could focus on catching up.


    ¡°Nice job with RH. Maintain buffer from front line. Keep anyone else back. If someone gets up there, you¡¯d better have wrecked.¡± Remy dismissed the message. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a comforting thought.¡± Josie grunted in response. Quants didn¡¯t talk much. He supposed there wasn¡¯t much room for talking when you were basically a human calculator.


    Their skiff barreled over the east side toward the airport and maintained a steady distance from the lead group. Remy watched a few skiffs pop out of the warehouse on his rear display. They¡¯d catch up over the straight aways and he¡¯d have to do something by the time they reached the foundations. Josie shot through the redwoods without much difficulty and those foundations loomed ahead.


    As promised, one of their trailing skiffs separated from its fellows and gained ground. Remy flexed his fingers. He¡¯d have to deal with them before they reached the third lap and weapons activated. Weapons certainly wouldn¡¯t do them any favors. Like I¡¯ve ever shot a cannon off a moving skiff. No, it was better to deal with as many people as possible before getting there.


    The closing skiff was painted jet black and its pilots wore the same in a full suit with helmets. They looked like spacemen dressed in black, darker than the surrounding dimness. Josie eased up on her throttle as they entered the foundations and the spacemen came right behind him, close enough for him to hear their engine over the roar of his own.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Remy stared at his rear view screen, trying to take in every detail. Up close, the spaceman look wore thin. Their skiff was older and boxier than the newest models like the one piloted by Jack¡¯s own team. Cheap black paint covered parts both stock and aftermarket and their weapon of choice was an aging tri-cannon pulled from a vintage military drone. Freelancers, no doubt, but well-funded ones to be this close to the front. JD¡¯s maybe? They weren¡¯t on his list but that only meant Jack hadn¡¯t identified them beforehand. Easy enough to miss that.


    Spaceman One kept pace with Josie throughout the first half of the foundations. Spaceman Two sat next to his driver, unlike Remy and Josie¡¯s seating arrangement, and held up his left arm but didn¡¯t unleash anything. What was he waiting for?


    Remy turned around in his seat and took in the spacemen¡¯s skiff with his own eyes. He¡¯d read that seeing a target personally helped with the Displacement. He stared at Spaceman One. It was easier to displace something discrete and small. Fuck, this was going to hurt, he thought.


    ¡°Do it.¡± Josie grunted. They were nearing the end of the foundations. Just as the last turn tucked tightly between two towers was their best chance. Remy exhaled and activated the Displacer.


    Nothing happened.


    "God damnit." He pulled back his arm and tried to fumble with the cover. It wouldn¡¯t take too long to swap to a Volt or something but it couldn¡¯t be anything strong after unloading a Displacer. Then, his arm went numb and Spaceman One blinked out of the air.


    Of course, he reappeared a moment later in the pilot¡¯s seat but it was just enough time to prevent him from reacting. Remy saw Spaceman Two throw his hands up to cover his head as they crashed into the foundations of the final tower, embedding deep into the steel and concrete structure.


    Remy puked onto the floor of his seat. Nausea wracked his body as they passed the line marking the third and final lap. He¡¯d never Displaced before and hoped to never again. His face hurt, his body hurt, even his God-damned blood hurt. He heard Josie say something over the headset but it just echoed between his ears like static on a bad radio. It hurt about as much as he thought it would. He envied the spacemen for their wreck.


    He didn¡¯t have the luxury of enjoying a wreck. At least not yet. He finally heard Josie¡¯s voice crack through.


    ¡°You okay?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m alive.¡± He wiped bile from his mouth. Cigarettes and cheap pastries tasted worse the second time up.


    ¡°Shoot them, then.¡± Josie grunted. He heard the weapons system beep active.


    Remy looked at the rear viewing panel and saw two skiffs charging forward toward them down the straight away. He shook his head to shake away blurry vision. A small controller popped out from under the console and Remy grabbed it, twiddling the dual joy sticks to test the sensitivity. They only had one cannon, but it was a good one: a swivel mounted dual-impulse plasma cannon with multiple firing modes. Jack may be using them but he wasn¡¯t sending them out here without a chance to defend themselves, at least.


    Remy dragged the targeting reticle across the screen and the skiff darted away. Targeting software was also banned in the Beltrider. As it turned out, computers could shoot a lot faster and a lot more accurately than a bunch of crooks in greasy skiffs and it took most of the fun out of the sport. Remy swiveled the cannons again and pulled the trigger. The skiff rocked with a chug-chug of displaced plasma but the blast missed the trailing skiffs wildly. They returned fire down the straightaway but Josie was prepared, dipping out of the way so blasts would just miss at the last moment. Remy would¡¯ve been sick again if there was anything left in his stomach.


    ¡°Trust the Quant, trust the Quant, trust the Quant.¡± He muttered while trying to hit their gaining rivals. The closest skiff was definitely the flashiest one Remy had seen in the race. It was jet black with old style purple and gold neon venting from the front like industrial flames. The racers themselves wore masks with white LED lights around their eyes, and purple and gold LEDs on the trim. Remy hadn¡¯t thought to wear anything but his old duster. While he and Josie lacked style points, he hoped to make up for that by simply surviving through the damned race.


    The warehouse nearly ended them.


    What before had been a tight sprint through a winding and treacherous facility became even more of a death trap when plasma cannons became involved. Josie did her best, but blasts sent shards of concrete raining down and clouds of refuse showed the leaders¡¯ wake of destruction. Fortunately, the two skiffs behind them were too intent on fighting each other to pay them much mind but it was all Remy could do to keep from screaming. Josie was flying on touch and feel at this point, blinded by smoke and dust. Hopefully, the end would be quick and reasonably painless.


    Once again, the promised end didn¡¯t come but the exit to the warehouse did. Remy¡¯d never been so happy to see the undercity. Only two skiffs remained in the distance, Jack¡¯s and one that looked like JD¡¯s official entry. It was too much to hope they¡¯d wreck each other.


    Neon Skiff barreled down on them as they reached the airport. Remy¡¯d basically given up on trying to shoot them down. Their pilot must have be Quant-enhanced too, he realized after spending most of the eastern straightaway wasting ammunition.


    They reached the forest in a dead heat. An arc of lightning shot over their skiff and Remy fired a burst of plasma in return. They danced throughout the forest, rising and falling, swaying back and forth to dodge the other¡¯s attacks and parry into a counter. In an instant, their cannons stopped and retreated underneath the neon skiff and a single, much larger cannon deployed in its place.


    ¡°Oh, fuck,¡± he muttered.


    Remy knew their dance was done.

 Chapter 17: A Bad Walk and Some Bad News

    Thank God it was a branch they¡¯d hit and not the ball of plasma. Either case, they wrecked, but at least after hitting the tree, Remy woke up in a smoking heap on the dusty forest floor and not at the Pearly Gates. When that day finally would come, he doubted the gates he would see would be very pearly at all.


    Remy stood on shaky legs. He had been thrown a dozen yards from where the skiff¡¯s remains piled in mess of twisted metal, wood, and caustic dust. He took a step and had to catch himself on one of the petrified redwoods. His knee roared in protest.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± he muttered, sucking his teeth. ¡°Josie? Jose!¡± He called out. Above, skiffs roared past, echoing off the lake¡¯s containment wall and the distant Ghostfence.


    Moving gingerly, Remy limped toward the wreck. The skiff had hit a branch while dodging plasma, and Remy had blacked out soon after. The craft was partially buried in the earth, small flames dancing on pools of fluid or along exposed wires. Josie was no where to be seen.


    ¡°Damnit, Josie, where are you?¡± He said.


    His face felt sticky from blood and dust mixing into his stubble, but otherwise thanked his lucky stars that he could walk away from this thing. Well, mostly able to walk, anyway. He could ignore the throb in his knee for a time.


    Remy limped around the wreckage to find Josie.


    ¡°Josie!¡± He called her name again. The sounds of the Beltrider faded into a dull, unmistakable thrum. It didn¡¯t take long to find her.


    Josie had also been thrown from the wreck-Thanks for the seat belts, Jack-but remained down at the end of short ditch dug by her body¡¯s impact.


    ¡°No!¡± He cried, staggering to her side. His knee raged as he dropped to the ground. Remy lifted her head and tapped her cheeks.


    ¡°Hey, Josie, wake up. Come on, we gotta get out of here. Wake up, Josie. Josie!¡±


    She didn¡¯t react. Her jacket was badly torn from where it scrapped against the ground and a large mess of bruises, jagged cuts, and blood covered her left side.


    ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake, Josie, come on.¡± He leaned her back and placed fingers to her throat, fumbling to find a pulse. There! It was faint, but there. It had to be there.


    Gritting his teeth, he rose to his feet and removed his leather jacket, itself torn in several places from impact.


    ¡°You owe me a new jacket.¡± He told Josie as he dragged her onto his jacket. With a sigh, he held onto a leather arm and tugged, dragging her behind him along the dusty ground.


    Each step was agonizing. His knee throbbed, surely laced with torn ligaments at best, and his lungs ached from the effort.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he muttered to Josie as he took a break against a fallen tree. The skiffs above them raced between the highest branches on their final lap. Remy hoped they all crashed. ¡°Okay, you¡¯re right. I should lose a little weight.¡± There had been a time he could run for hours had he needed to. Now, bum leg aside, he¡¯d be lucky to make twenty minutes without huffing like a vacuum. He leaned over and wretched bile, his stomach long empty of anything of substance.


    He wiped his face on his shirt, grimacing as sweat ran into his own wounds. His fingers shook from Vasc withdrawal but they couldn¡¯t do anything about that now. Remy grabbed the duster¡¯s edge and dragged her further.


    Just a few more steps. Let¡¯s get to that tree and we can stop. He lied to himself over and over. Cutting deals with himself was the only way to get to the next marker. Eventually, even the wretching stopped, his stomach simply cramped like a rag wrung too tightly.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Josie woke just as they reached the intact edges of the undercity where streetlights still occassionally flickered.


    ¡°Whas¡¯ going on?¡± She murmured. Remy dropped the leather sleeve and turned to her, wincing at the sudden movement.


    ¡°You¡¯re awake!¡± He croaked. His throat was dry from the forest¡¯s dusty floor and there hadn¡¯t been any water along the way. ¡°Feel okay? Don¡¯t move, you look like shit.¡±


    Josie staggered to her feet, leaning against a broken wall for support. She looked him up and down and spat.


    ¡°Well, you shouldn¡¯t talk. People in glass houses and all.¡±


    She was okay, alright.


    Josie glanced back where they had come, the towering skeletons of the redwoods obscured in the shadows. She looked down at the jacket, now bloody and even more torn.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± she said, trying to stand straighter. Her breath caught and she nearly fell once more but caught herself on the wall. ¡°Thanks. For not leaving me there.¡±


    Remy limped to her side and ducked under her arm for support.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. Thanks for not getting us killed.¡±


    They staggered onward, leaving the ruined jacket behind. Neither spoke much, saving their energy for fighting whatever was broken within their battered bodies. Once they reached New Madison, everything would be fine. They passed folks on the street, but no one bothered them. Folk in the undercity minded their own business and strangers covered in blood would only invite trouble.


    Turning onto a busier street, a sleek black skiff with tinted windows slowed to a stop next to them.


    ¡°So you lived. Boss will be pleased to hear that. Get in.¡± A thin woman, with a grim face, and a scar over her left eye leaned out the passenger window. The rear passenger door swung upwards.


    ¡°Bout time,¡± Remy muttered, stepping toward the skiff. If Jack wanted to kill them, he could go ahead. Anything was better than another full day of this. He helped Josie in, breaking open some wounds that had dried during their walk.


    ¡°Mind the seats, now.¡± The grim woman growled. Remy eased up next to Josie and she slumped against him as the skiff took off.


    The meeting with Jack was mercifully short. He met them in the garage, not wanting their blood to stain any of his carpets. Grinning broadly, he passed a padded envelope full of credit chips, and a half-glass of old world bourbon to Remy. It burned like hell, but he drank the entire glass in one pull to wet his dried throat.


    ¡°My word, Remy, you sure do look like you¡¯ve seen a better day. It¡¯s not for nothing, now, it showed me that you and I, we can get along just fine if we understand each other. I helped you, and then you repaid the favor. Why, that¡¯s awfully gentlemanly now. I think a couple old dogs like ourselves can play nice from now on.¡±


    More favors. Remy thought. He didn¡¯t care to think about what future favors might be foisted upon him. Josie nodded off to sleep in the backseat of Jack¡¯s skiff and Remy used that as an excuse to get the hell out of the undercity.


    ¡°Oh, Remy? One more thing. There¡¯s a document in that envelope that I think you¡¯ll appreciate from all them papers you brought us. Mighty helpful, that. You have a real good one now, you hear?¡±


    ¡°Gotta stay up, Josie, stay up.¡±


    She groaned in protest, muttering something he couldn¡¯t understand.


    On the surface, he called for an ambulance and for the second time in as many weeks, Josie was stitched back up at New Madison General. He had a nano-laced brace placed around his knee and a few stitches along his face, and sat in a secluded waiting room waiting for Josie to get out of surgery. He grimaced, watching a news report on the carnage of the Beltrider. Remy switched channels to a bloodsport rerun.


    Watching the wrecks on the news report made him worry about Josie all over again. Remy settled into his chair, fingers itching for a glass of gin but he settled for a mug of instant coffee, and sliced open Jack¡¯s envelope.


    He dumped credit chips onto the coffee table and brushed them aside. Jack certainly had paid handsomely for their performance, even though they¡¯d wrecked. He tried not to think how much money Jack would earn as a consequence and how little of that money it would take to have him killed if he wasn¡¯t helpful any more. Never get in bed with gangsters or easy women. Just a nugget of wisdom his dear old dad had passed on to his boy.


    Remy brushed the credits back into the envelope. He¡¯d count them later. That envelope, along with anything else he received from Stefanie, could maybe buy a way out of this town. He loved New Madison, but his welcome seemed to be wearing awfully thin with too many people who had proven capable of making him bleed. Remy fished for a folded up piece of paper at the bottom of the envelope, pulling it free around the chips.


    He unfolded it and swallowed his coffee in a single gulp after reading what it said.


    What an awful day.

 Chapter 18: Old Wine

    He knew his face still bore the Beltrider¡¯s signature when he showed up at Stefanie¡¯s place. She opened the door in a lavender turtleneck sweater that clung tight in all the right places.


    ¡°Oh, Remy, what happened?¡± Stefanie reached up and brushed her fingers to his face where angry red marks still scored his cheek. Her fingers were cool to the touch leaving a numb tingling in their wake.


    Remy gave his best smile and shrugged.


    ¡°Nothing I can¡¯t handle. Just part of the job.¡±


    Stefanie narrowed her eyes. Remy had seen that look on a woman before. She didn¡¯t believe him. Fortunately, she was nice enough not to say anything and took his coat.


    ¡°Go, take a seat, I¡¯ll grab us something to drink.¡± She gestured to a balcony off the main entrance with a few chairs and a small couch surrounding a lit fire pit. It was snowing outside, but a net of silent drones hovered around the balcony¡¯s edges keeping the interior heated and dry with an invisible net. He took a seat on the couch. Stefanie didn¡¯t keep him waiting long.


    God, she looked good, leaning over to pour two glasses of wine. Her hair was pulled back in a flawlessly messy bun and her painted red nails clinked softly on the glasses. He knew his eyes lingered longer than he¡¯d like to admit. She handed him a glass and settled down next to him on the couch.


    ¡°Do you mind?¡± She asked, pulling a cinnamon scented cigarette free from a silver case.


    ¡°Not at all.¡±


    She smiled and flicked the end, sending a swirl of spiced smoke around themselves.


    Stefanie¡¯s place was far nicer than any school teacher had a right to own. Not that school teachers weren¡¯t important - they had been the central planners of the revolution, of course - but money never followed the things that were actually important. That was why unimportant fucks like Happy Jack had so much. Money did, however, follow those who could make people like Jack more money and her now-ex husband Colin had done that in spades.


    The wine they sipped was older than the two of them put together, and Remy noticed the fine details of the balcony for the first time. While not aas flashy as the gaudy old money haunts near Revolution Plaza, the tiles were real marble, or a very expensive replication, and every feature looked hand-selected. Colin¡¯s work had set them up fine. He hoped Stefanie would be able to adjust to a different lifestyle.


    Remy shifted in his seat, eager to be through with this part.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Look, Stef. Your husband¡¯s gone. I¡¯m sorry.¡± He bit his lip. There was no good way to tell someone their husband was dead. Even if the news was unsurprisingly, it felt terrible to say, and worse to hear.


    ¡°So, that¡¯s it then.¡± Stefanie said into her own wine glass. ¡°I¡¯ve feared the worst since our last chat.¡±


    Remy swirled his own glass and stared into the fire in the pit before them. It smelled like a bouquet of spices Remy couldn¡¯t quite place, but wood smoke was certainly no part of it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose I want to know anything else about the circumstances, do I? Probably best if I don¡¯t know the details.¡± She sighed, brushing a finger along the corner of her eye.


    ¡°Probably best if you didn¡¯t.¡± Remy confirmed. Colin had been a lawyer for JD¡¯s gang, helping them hide money throughout the undercity. Happy Jack had found him and tried to tickle some information from the unfortunate attorney. Jack wasn¡¯t very good at this so Colin had died before he revealing anything. What a surprise it must¡¯ve been for Jack to see Remy St. Claire come plop down the very set of documents he¡¯d been hoping to torture from the attorney. Small miracles.


    They sat in silence listening to quiet, sad music, and watching snow fall outside. Cinnamon smoke swirled around them as Stefanie lit a second with a shaking hand. It was one of those afternoons where it was cold enough to snow but warm enough pleasantly walk around with a coat. He¡¯d been in New Madison long enough to not take these days for granted because it was only ever a day away from one so cold your ass would freeze to the skiff seat and its anti-gravity units would need a good thumping before they started.


    Remy finished his wine and set the glass on the table. He didn¡¯t want to go, leaving her like this, but lingering was worse. Stewing in memories of dead husbands was no way to spend an afternoon. He¡¯d call her again sometime. Not now though. Now, she needed time to herself. Mourning took all shapes and Remy didn¡¯t care to see any of them. He started to stand.


    ¡°Well, Stef, I -¡±


    She grasped his arm and pulled him back to the couch.


    ¡°Oh, you must think me terribly unprofessional, sitting here with my wine and my thoughts, while you wait to be paid. Here, wait just a moment.¡± She went back into the loft to her purse and returned with a small envelope. Remy didn¡¯t say anything but he disagreed entirely. Woman had just learned she¡¯d lost her husband; this was about as professional as she could be.


    Stefanie placed the envelope on the couch between them and brushed over the back of his hand as she pulled away.


    ¡°Would you be willing to grab a drink with me tomorrow night? I¡¯m afraid I didn¡¯t really have many other friends and you¡¯re the only one I can talk to about¡­well¡­any of this. I¡¯d rather not be alone.¡±


    Stefanie sniffed and turned back to her wine, drinking deeply from what remained.


    Of all the things that could have happened at Stefanie¡¯s loft that day, being asked out for drinks was pretty low on that list. He¡¯d assumed it would be another night of cheap gin and reruns on the couch over a box of Asian food with Josie. Remy fumbled a reply.


    ¡°Uh, yeah, sure, of course. Where do you want to go?¡±


    ¡°Someplace I haven¡¯t been. I don¡¯t really want to think about my last time anywhere.¡±


    His mind felt like it raced through mud. Frantic to answer, but in a delirious haze. His heart pounded in his chest, threatening to break bones.


    ¡°I know a place near the Plaza. School House around five?¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± she smiled weakly, ¡°It¡¯s a date.¡±


    Remy sure hoped so.

 Chapter 19: Smokeshow

    They met at the School House around five in the afternoon. Remy had shaved that morning, but a thin stubble now ran over his chin.


    ¡°You¡¯re shaving?¡± Josie had grinned, leaning against the door frame to the bathroom. ¡°Got a hot date planned?¡±


    Remy had shrugged.


    ¡°It¡¯s just been awhile.¡± The lies came easy. Why did she even care?


    Josie had stepped out that afternoon, returning to her shop for some tools or something of that sort. Remy dabbed on a touch of cologne and slipped away before she returned. He wore a long leather jacket, fresh from the tailor after its own lengthy repair. He still needed to find a new hat.


    Settling into a high top table at the rear of the School House, he had to only wait a moment for Stefanie to arrive. A small group of regulars parted as she entered, as if they had never seen anyone like her before. Maybe they hadn¡¯t, he thought. No one was like Stefanie. She smiled, seeing him in the back, and swayed to the table.


    Before she arrived, Luis waddled over to their table, placing a bowl of pretzels and taking drink orders. Her order. He didn¡¯t ask Remy; he didn¡¯t need to. She ordered a martini. Of course, she did. Before Remy could warn of whatever Luis might call a ¡°martini,¡± he was off to make it.


    ¡°Um, hey,¡± Remy stammered, feeling a bit tongue-tied. ¡°Can I get your coat?¡±


    ¡°Please.¡± She smiled and turned so he could peel off the black overcoat. His hand brushed on bare shoulder removing it.Underneath, Stefanie wore a full-length red dress like she was on her way to sing a set at the Arcadia. A slit ran all the up her impossibly long legs. Thin black gloves crept up her arms. It took all the willpower he had to keep his jaw clamped shut.


    ¡°Wow,¡± he murmured. She, at least, pretended not to hear.


    Luis returned with a glass of gin and a martini in a glass that looked like it had wanted a wash since the revolution. Stefanie didn¡¯t say anything though and took a sip. She didn¡¯t wince, which was more than Remy could say about his own.


    ¡°You look good,¡± she said, glancing at his cheek. It was less red today.


    ¡°So do you. Incredible, actually.¡± It felt good to tell the truth. He didn¡¯t get the chance to do that very often in his line of work. She smiled broadly, and removed her gloves to reveal impeccably shaped arms and intricately painted fingernails.


    They chatted for near an hour about the usual bullshit. It was cold outside. Neither knew if it was going to snow next weekend. Remy drank gin because his dad did and never really considered switching. Stefanie drank a martini because the old movies had made them look cool. Neither talked about Colin, or what happened at the undercity speedway. After a brief lull, Stefanie leaned into the topic first.


    ¡°By the way, I transferred a few more credits to your account. A tip, I suppose.¡± She said quietly. ¡°Have any new clients, yet?¡±


    Remy laughed. ¡°I just got out of New Madison General when you got a hold of me. Haven¡¯t really looked for anything since.¡± She looked surprised.


    ¡°After¡­what happened¡­I would think you might be eager to get back on Jack¡¯s good side.¡±


    ¡°Honest-to-God, I¡¯d rather avoid most jobs right now. Give Happy Jack a chance to cool off. I¡¯ve been closer than I¡¯d like to get.¡± He flashed her a weak smile and lit up a cigarette. He looked fine but the robodocs had done a pretty good job. He didn¡¯t think Happy Jack would give him any other chances should they cross paths again. Stefanie exhaled.


    ¡°Interest phrase, ¡®honest-to-God.¡¯ Something else you picked up from your dad?¡± She gestured to his gin.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± He frowned, glancing at his glass.


    ¡°Well, you don¡¯t believe in God, do you, Rem?¡± Stefanie asked through a wisp of smoke from a cinnamon scented cigarette. Remy sipped his gin and tightened his lips. Luis needed to get a new fucking supplier.


    ¡°I suppose it is. Not that he was much of a believer, either.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what your dad thought. What do you think?¡± Stefanie raised a hand, and Luis toddled over with a fresh drink as if he¡¯d been doing nothing but wait for that moment.


    Remy shrugged.


    ¡°I think, if there is a God and He¡¯s anything like folks say, he¡¯s gotta be pretty fucking pissed at all of us. Charity, love, and equality don¡¯t seem to make it any further than lip service in these parts. Not that I¡¯m any better, of course.¡± Remy tossed a handful of pretzels into his mouth before washing it down with gin. Bar pretzels always had a peculiar zip to them. Probably the smoke and the dozen assholes rubbing their hands through the bowl. No way Luis bothered to wash the bowl between scoops. He grabbed a few more and tossed them back.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t worried for your soul? What happens next when you die?¡± Stefanie brushed her hair back but it was futile, like pushing back a mane. Another sip. Her eyes bored into his. Remy had to force himself to keep looking back, caught between her intoxicating draw and the intensity.


    ¡°Hah, if I got a soul, it¡¯ll probably end up in some tank at Vascorp when I die. I¡¯ll spend eternity inside a fancy watch doing party tricks.¡±


    Was she asking because of Colin? Remy didn¡¯t like talking religion. It was a good way to make enemies of friends, and friends of enemies. He had just never seen the point of talking about it particularly when no one really seemed to live what they professed anyway. If someone wanted to help him rob a bank courier, what did it matter what the other guy thought about the less fortunate? Stefanie shook her head.


    ¡°I¡¯m serious, you¡¯re not worried about what we¡¯ve done and how that matters? You wouldn¡¯t repent on anything?¡±


    Remy shrugged.


    ¡°I figure if we¡¯re made in His image, then God must be a crooked son of a bitch too so I¡¯ll be just fine.¡±


    They sat there a few minutes listening to whatever old music Luis had going on the jukebox. It hadn¡¯t been updated for 80 years but there was something timeless about listening to a bunch of dead guys sing over synth-beats. Almost classy in a way. Stefanie finished her cigarette and put it out on the table with a rush of cinnamon. The last puff was always the strongest, making you want another. Remy wanted her to have another. On cue, she lit one and Luis stopped over with fresh drinks. Of course, fresh wasn¡¯t accurate but they were full, at least. Stefanie blew smoke over the table and met his eyes. She reached out for her drink and brushed Remy¡¯s knuckles that gripped his own.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re the man I want, Remy.¡±


    He tingled. He¡¯d been waiting for those words since she stepped into his shit-hole office all those weeks ago, beautifully anxious to find her husband. Remy hadn¡¯t cared about what her husband had been doing, but from that moment, he knew he wanted her. Needed her like a junkie needs another hit. She tore him up.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got another job for someone like you.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Remy said, trying not to let the disappoint show in his voice. Another job, that¡¯s all he was good for.


    ¡°I want to get out of this town, Remy. If you can do it, we can both get out of here. Go west, maybe. Past the wastes. I don¡¯t care where, but I¡¯ve had about enough of New Madison.¡±


    We?


    Remy liked the sound of ¡°we¡±. He was growing tired of New Madison anyway, himself. The city had a lot going for it, sure, but a man had to know when he had worn out his welcome. Tips to Luis grew more expensive. Happy Jack¡¯s gang might be neutral to him, but JD certainly was not. The best thing that had happened to him in the past six months sat across the table.


    ¡°What¡¯s the job?¡± He knew he would take it before he even asked.


    ¡°Have you heard about the auction at the Viceroy¡¯s Ball?¡±


    Remy looked to Luis who was helping Alvin wake up off a stack of newspapers. The man had been cagey about that prototype card Remy had passed along. He couldn¡¯t overhear them from where he was standing. No sense in revealing all his cards, no matter the gal.


    ¡°Some rare Vascs, right?¡± That was the official story, at any rate. Fancy auction for the well-to-do to buy some rare and collectible Vascs as a cover for the real auction focused on that prototype.


    ¡°I mean the real auction.¡± She raised her eyebrows. Remy ought to have learned to stop being surprised by Stefanie. If she stepped outside and turned into a rocket ship, he might just shrug. Remy smiled back at her with a nod.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s the job?¡± he repeated.


    ¡°A couple Vascorp prototypes are going up for auction while the public auction happens at the Ball. I don¡¯t know the buyers, but if the Scrappers are selling, it¡¯s going to be worth the risk.¡±


    ¡°Prototypes? What¡¯s the job? Lifting the gear or something else? ¡®Fraid I¡¯m nothing special with credit frauds.¡± It was true. One summer in a Vegas Undervault had been enough to teach him that lesson.


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking we lift the lot, then hop a shuttle up to Saint Paul to unload. From there, we could go anywhere. Might even be able to afford a pass to Luna.¡±


    Remy didn¡¯t let himself think about Luna. Might as well wish to be made of cheese or for a mountain of jelly beans. Anywhere else sounded appealing though. Some parts of the world still avoided the encroaching wastes. He lit a new cigarette and looked through the smoke at Stefanie. He could live without any Vascs if it was with her. New Madison was great but, Stefanie was Stefanie.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t like tracking some petty drug runners.¡± He warned. Organizing this was an order of magnitude more sophisticated than finding out what happened to some two-bit attorney in the undercity.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t ask if I didn¡¯t think you could do it.¡± She purred, taking his hand.


    And that was that. They spent the evening discussing the job, and far longer about what life would be like without worrying about trading favors with junkies or teaching a bunch of bourgeois brats history. His gin emptied once, or a dozen times, and Stefanie¡¯s switched to whiskey after her third greased up martini.


    Luis got busier as the night went on. Three times Redcaps burst in the door and pulled some poor bastard from the bar or the toilet. Once, when four of Happy Jack¡¯s guys came in, Remy ducked away to take a piss. He and Jack were on good enough terms but there was no sense showing his face as a reminder. The four had taken their drinks and moved to the lower, private bar, as always. Rumor had it the bar below was a replica on the same spot in the undercity where the bar dated back to the city¡¯s founding some few hundred years back. It certainly stank like it.


    Remy came back to the front and the four were gone. He found Stefanie at the jukebox looking at the old selections.


    ¡°Have you heard this? My dad only listened to this stuff.¡±


    ¡°Not much one for music, eh.¡±


    Her choices started and they caught a few looks from around the bar. Remy flashed them a smile and a wave and most grumbled back into their drinks. Tough crowd to please.


    ¡°This one¡¯s my favorite, listen.¡±


    The recording was old, back when they actually used physical instruments. It didn¡¯t sound so hard. Stefanie clapped and sang along, perfectly on-key. She sang along with the chorus and placed her right hand on his, swaying to the beat. They danced through the first song, and then another. His two left feet forgotten by the whirlwind of cinnamon smoke and whiskey breath. Stefanie gave him a smoldering look and he knew - hoped - what came next.


    ¡°Your place?¡± he suggested. His own was no place to take anyone home let alone a woman like Stefanie.


    Her place was all his mind promised it would be.

 Chapter 20: Just Like Old Times

    Plotting to steal something worthwhile was the closest thing to a real job Remy had ever had. To pull it off successfully, the right people needed to be in the right place at the right time. If you needed to travel, you better have a getaway driver ready in something unflashy and legally registered; if you needed to break into a vault, an inside guy at the organization would save you a lot of time; if you needed to bluff your way past some folks, a pretty face with a heap of charisma would be nice. With a good team, even a small group could infiltrate the world¡¯s most secure locations like a treasury vault or a casino and get out without a complication.  If there were complications¡­ Well, Remy had spent enough time locked up underneath Vegas to sincerely hope for no complications.


    Unfortunately, Remy didn¡¯t have a quality team. He didn¡¯t have any team. The first rule of any heist was to scatter after it was done. Kept the redcaps guessing, that way. On the whole, they were a dim lot, but even a blind pig could sometimes find itself a mud bath. He had no idea where most of them were. One was serving time in a freezer way up north, and two others got hitched and lived on one of those real beaches somewhere. He used to get postcards.


    Josie was the only one left. Their getaway driver. There was none better than Josephine O¡¯Malley and the woman damn-well knew it too. Even so, part of him felt wrong bringing her into a job to help him and Stefanie skip town. Of course, she¡¯d known something was up when he¡¯d come home the other morning stinking of cinnamon in the rumpled clothes of the night before. She had simply clacked her gum and raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t say anything. Josie could be a real pain in his neck but at least she didn¡¯t make their relationship into something that it wasn¡¯t. It was professional and that was it. In moments of weakness, he could admit a fondness for a friendship he didn¡¯t realize he had missed but then that fucking cherry gum would smack again and she¡¯d tell him he put the dishes away wrong. A man didn¡¯t need that much aggravation in his life.


    He tapped the side of his beer bottle, thinking it through.


    ¡°Oh! And that¡¯s another kill for Peter the Ripper! He¡¯s really having a nice season for the Free Patriots.¡± The gladiatorial announcer described the Ripper¡¯s kill in detail. Remy winced, setting his beer down on the table.


    ¡°It¡¯s always hot irons. Why is it always hot irons?¡± Josie muttered next to him. He shrugged, but tried to study his hands instead of the screen. Peter the Ripper¡¯s nom de guerre was well-earned.


    They sat on the rooftop of Bo¡¯s Bunker, a no-frills bar like the School House, but far away from the hustle of Revolution Plaza. A heat net kept the falling snow at bay, as a server came by to collect Remy¡¯s empty bottle.


    ¡°Can I get you another one of these?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Sure, I¡¯d take another. Jose?¡±


    She nodded, finishing off her own to hand to the man before he walked away. She had recovered from her own injuries well, and only a faint scar could be seen if you knew where to look. Remy still looked like someone had taken a hot waffle iron to his face, but he was glad Josie¡¯s recovery went more smoothly. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°¡­and that¡¯s halftime! The New Madison Free Patriots are down one kill to two, but they may have maimed enough of the Cobras to make up the difference. Let¡¯s take a look at the first half highlights¡­¡± the announcer droned on as the waiter returned with two beers and a small basket of popcorn. Josie tossed a cred chip onto the tray.


    ¡°Keep ¡®em coming.¡± She winked at him.


    ¡°Of course.¡± The waiter winked back. Remy frowned, clutching a fist in his lap before he caught himself. It was a wink, and it¡¯s just Josie, man.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to do that.¡± Remy said as the waiter moved to his other tables. He fumbled in his coat pocket for some credits and she waved them off.


    ¡°I can pay for it if I want to pay for it, Remy. Besides, you bought last night and I¡¯m still at your place. Let me pick up some beers, you dolt.¡± She pulled gum from her mouth and stuck it in a cocktail napkin.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Remy nodded, picking up his own fresh beer. They sat watching a holographic marching band cross the field as groundskeepers scrubbed away the first half blood. The beer was cold, seemingly colder by the snow following from the sky.


    ¡°Reminds me of the Water Lily.¡± Josie looked up at the heat nets as well. ¡°Seems like a lifetime ago.¡±


    Remy laughed, shaking his head. She turned to him with a confused look.


    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t know. Jumping through broken glass and ending up limping home is pretty much par for this lifetime since you¡¯ve been in it. Hard to imagine that racing the Beltrider might not be the dumbest thing I¡¯ve done this year. Now, a lifetime ago was just beating up junkies for tips.¡±


    ¡°And getting thrown in jail for it?¡± She challenged back, fighting to keep a smirk off her face. How had she heard about that one?


    She shrugged. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right though. Part of me is afraid that if I leave, we¡¯ll each simply die of boredom. You sure keep it interesting for a girl, huh?¡±


    Remy snorted into his beer and wiped drops from his stubble. ¡°Well, if I remember correctly, it was your ex we were stealing from, yeah? I think you¡¯ve done plenty to keep things interesting yourself.¡±


    ¡°I suppose I do.¡± Josie cocked her head and looked at him sideways. ¡°You doing okay?¡± She brushed his knee with her hand. Her fingers were warm.


    ¡°What?¡±


    She shrugged again.


    ¡°You just seem¡­I don¡¯t know. Distracted? Quiet? I don¡¯t know, just a hunch. You can tell me I¡¯m wrong and I¡¯ll leave it alone.¡±


    He sighed, thoughts of Stefanie floating by aimlessly as he remembered. She¡¯ll find out anyway and I need her help.


    ¡°I have a new job,¡± he said glancing around to ensure no one was listening. No one was.


    ¡°Oh. Is it dangerous?¡± Why did her eyes sparkle at ¡°dangerous?¡±


    ¡°Not as bad as the Beltrider, I suppose but yeah, it¡¯s going to be dangerous.¡± He drank slowly, collecting his thoughts. ¡°I was actually hoping you¡¯d be interested in helping me out with it. If you can¡¯t, or don¡¯t want to, that¡¯s fine. I understand you¡¯ve got your own business to get back to and stuff.¡±


    It felt stupid asking her now. They¡¯d worked together a few times, a long time ago. But that was a long time ago. She didn¡¯t owe him anything and had her own life to move on. God, he hoped she moved on to her own life again. Having a couch without a mound of blankets and empty food cartons - well, at least only his own empty food cartons - would be luxurious. He didn¡¯t expect Josie to say yes.


    She smiled and those damned eyes twinkled again.


    ¡°I¡¯m in. What is it?¡±


    Remy frowned.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to hear about it first? It could be stupid or something you¡¯d rather not do.¡± He was positive it was both, but for Stefanie, he¡¯d do anything.


    Josie laughed and tossed a handful of popcorn into her mouth. She replied through broken kernels.


    ¡°If you asked me and looked this nervous about it, it has to be good. I¡¯m in, what¡¯s up.¡±


    Remy didn¡¯t realize how much he¡¯d been dreading her reply until the knot of tension between his shoulders loosened and a smile crept back over his face.


    ¡°You remember the job at the spaceport near old Boston?¡±

 Chapter 21: Above the Clouds

    Getting Josie on board made everything else easier. Back out east, she had been the driver, always ready with a skiff, shuttle, or even antique armored vehicles to ferry them away after a job. A getaway might be necessary, but he needed her for more than that. What did that make her now? Remy didn¡¯t really know and didn¡¯t much care either. She could do everything with the right Vasc and there was no one else he¡¯d trust with his skin on the line.


    After Josie, there really wasn¡¯t anyone else to trust. Regardless, they needed a plan and Remy knew there was only one stop for a plan like this.


    The Keymaker¡¯s doorman admitted Remy and Josie without a fuss. Remy had never really been a petty man but he did not hide his smile at the doorman¡¯s stormy features remembering the chastisement he had suffered because of Remy. They soared upwards in the lift.  Revolution Plaza was beautiful through the glass exterior. Lights wrapped up each obelisk like a gritty stone tree. An ice rink filled the interior of the plaza and the skaters quickly became specks of bright red, yellow, and blue jackets as they soared into the low-hanging clouds.


    Josie whistled. ¡°The Keymaker, huh? Didn¡¯t think he was real.¡± She fingered the gold inlay on the lift¡¯s control panel, picking at a loose corner like it was a partial scab.


    Remy shrugged.


    ¡°You dated a guy named ¡®the Inspector.¡¯ Can¡¯t imagine its all that different.¡± No one got a ¡°The¡± name without deserving it. Losing his thoughts in the clouds, Remy wondered what his ¡°The¡± name might be.


    The Lifter.


    The Ghost.


    The Guy Who Bit Off More Than He Could Chew.


    He shook his head but Josie seemed to read his mind.


    ¡°I think I¡¯d like to be ¡®The Flame.¡¯ You know, if I had a name like that.¡±


    ¡°The Flame?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, like, something that¡¯s pretty but also dangerous and wild, you know?¡± Josie winked at him and laughed. The Flame was perfect for a girl like Josie. ¡°What¡¯s yours?¡±


    Remy knew which one he¡¯d earned. ¡°The Guy Who Bit Off More Than He Could Chew. Come on, we¡¯re here.¡± They stepped off the lift into the hallway and Remy led them to the end.


    ¡°Ritzy. This Keymaker has some style.¡±


    He rapped his knuckles on the door and Franklin answered in his mech unit.


    ¡°Remy St. Claire, I was hoping you¡¯d come see me soon. Oh, and you brought a friend this time? My, she¡¯s a pretty one. Why is she here with you? Hello, my dear, my name is Franklin. It¡¯s nice to meet you.¡± He offered a mechanical hand and Josie shook it enthusiastically.


    ¡°Franklin ? As in, Franklin Hermez?¡±


    Remy worried that Josie might explode. The girl shook and stared at Franklin wide-eyed and slack-jawed. He hoped Franklin wouldn¡¯t get a bad impression from it. They needed his help if they had any chance of getting the prototype.


    ¡°Well, it seems my reputation precedes me then. Yes, that¡¯s me. Come in, come in. I just made some drinks if you¡¯d like. Remy knows where to find them.¡±


    Remy grabbed Josie¡¯s hand and dragged her into the loft before she vomited from the excitement. Franklin closed the door behind them and trundled off to the kitchen to retrieve snacks. Remy picked up the pitcher of margaritas and poured out a few glasses. The view was cloudy today, but magnificent all the same. Other towers poked above the clouds throughout the city. Remy stared at the Water Lily, trying to count windows to determine which one he had hurled himself from last time.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Rem, you know who that is, don¡¯t you? That¡¯s Franklin Hermez! He and Georgia practically invented Vasculators! God, I¡¯ve been obsessed with them since I was a girl. Don¡¯t let me make an idiot of myself, okay?¡± She straightened her hair and checked her make-up in the window pane.


    ¡°I¡¯m not qualified for that. Just let me talk, alright?¡± Franklin returned before Josie could reply. He set down a tray of fresh cookies and dumped the margarita into his drinking unit. He caught Josie staring at the contraption.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid my muscles aren¡¯t what they used to be, dear. Georgia was the one behind it. Sick of picking up after me, I imagine. Now, this suit keeps me spry and out of what¡¯s left of her hair and we¡¯re both happier for it.¡± He turned Remy and stepped closer. ¡°You must tell me. How did my plan work? Did you get what you needed?¡±


    ¡°More than you could imagine.¡± He jerked his head toward Josie. ¡°First, I needed to get a few of the Vascs you suggested¡­¡±


    Remy told her everything since the last time he¡¯d sat in this room. He shared how he had found Josie and their run-in with the Inspector to retrieve her Shusher Vasc. He continued with the raid on the Sapphire Lounge and the fortunate timing of Happy Jack¡¯s gang, and finally about the Beltrider and confirmation that his quarry was dead. It was a good story when he told it together, he thought. Franklin was a great audience, as well, interjecting at all the right times with a ¡°My word!¡± or a ¡°You don¡¯t say!¡±. Josie maintained her slack-jawed reverence throughout, puffing her chest out only when Franklin heaped praise on her for piloting the Beltrider.


    They drank their first margaritas and then another. Remy was in no rush to get to what he needed to ask about and general conversation with someone other than Josie was good. Franklin had asked Josie about her work and that had opened the flood gates. Josie had dreamed of being a Vascorp engineer like Georgia, she said. They shared stories of tinkering with bits of code and modifying things they probably ought not touch. Remy didn¡¯t understand a lick of it but the peach margaritas were good and the cookies homemade. He contented himself to chuckle at what he thought were the right times and to stare out the window when he was lost.


    As the sun began to set and the clouds burned a brilliant reddish-orange, Remy set down his glass and cleared his throat.


    ¡°I wanted to ask you something else, Franklin, if you¡¯re willing. There¡¯s an auction for a prototype Vasc next Saturday evening and I¡¯ve been hired to get it prior to the auction during the Viceroy¡¯s Ball. Supposed to be something really unstable or advanced. Don¡¯t know much about the prototype itself. We need your help with a plan.¡±


    Franklin considered him over his tiny half-moon spectacles for a long moment. Remy was used to his long silences thinking a question over, but Josie squirmed in her seat, eager for someone to speak. Or perhaps simply needing to use the bathroom. The girl had drank enough margaritas for it. Finally, Franklin spoke through his suit.


    ¡°I have two conditions. One, I¡¯ll be the final buyer for the Vasc I¡¯m helping you steal. If your job is just to get it, I¡¯ll buy it. If your client is the buyer, break it off with him or I¡¯m out.¡±


    Remy nodded. Stefanie had just specified taking the damn thing to sell it after. As long as the pay was good enough to get them out of town after everyone taking their cut, he didn¡¯t really care who got it. Better Franklin than someone like Happy Jack or the Inspector.


    ¡°Alright, agreed, and the second?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going with you to the Ball.¡±


    If it was quiet before, you could hear a heartbeat in the room now. Josie actually gasped. Remy shook his head but Franklin raised an arm.


    ¡°Wait, before you say it, just use your own little brain for a moment. I¡¯m going to be there already. Of course, Franklin Hermez is going to the Viceroy¡¯s Ball. I have more than a good excuse to be visibly seen and no one stops a celebrity in a mechanical suit when they stomp around. I¡¯ll be your, what do you call it, face?¡±


    Remy snorted, ¡°You¡¯re not exactly inconspicuous, Franklin.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be hiding in plain sight. Why would I need to steal it? I could just buy the damn thing.¡±


    Remy hadn¡¯t considered that point and frowned. ¡°Wait, why are you helping us with this then if you can just buy it? Why risk this and then pay for it anyway?¡±


    Franklin shrugged, an extremely odd gesture from a mechanical suit.


    ¡°Another two reasons. First, I¡¯d rather my friends get paid instead of some corporate looters who got lucky on a junk dive. Second, I won¡¯t pay you nearly as much as it would go for on open auction. I¡¯ll pay a fair price, of course, but not an auction price. Those are my terms for my services, Mr. St. Claire.¡±


    He considered it for a moment. He¡¯d always dealt fairly with him before so there wasn¡¯t much reason to suspect anything would change. Franklin certainly would be an asset, even if he didn¡¯t do anything other than plan the thing and walk around. Remy couldn''t see a downside.


    ¡°We¡¯d love to have your help, Mr. Hermez. Have another pitcher of those things around?¡±

 Chapter 22: The Freeworker

    The Freeworker was New Madison¡¯s finest hotel and they made sure to tell you about it. The first large building the revolutionaries built after covering up Old Madison, the Freeworker unironically presented revolutionary ideals adorned with the trappings of the oligarchs: crystal and gold chandeliers throughout, real marble floor looted from the old capitol, and the heaviest looking concierge counter Remy¡¯d ever seen.


    Remy stuck out like a sore thumb. He walked through the main entrance and his eyes traced the gilded staircases spiraling upwards on his left and right. The main atrium opened all the way to the roof, letting light flow through stained glass pilfered from ancient churches in the undercity. The setting sun¡¯s light flickered and danced down the central opening¡¯s crystal chandeliers ensuring that each visit showed the room in a different light. Remy handed his coat and newly bought hat to a thin man smoking a long cigarette. He looked Remy up and down before taking his materials.


    ¡°Room number. Sir?¡± He paused just long enough to let the ¡°sir¡± land as a jab. Remy fucking hated this place.


    ¡°Just drinks tonight.¡± He held out a credit chip and the man exchanged it with a receipt.


    ¡°Very good, I¡¯ll ensure your¡­accoutrements¡­are secured. Good evening.¡±


    It was early in the evening and the happy hour crowd spilled out of the bar itself into the common area of the lobby. Remy brushed past men forty years older than he standing far too close to women ten years younger to get into the proper bar area. Though he didn¡¯t care for the design, the company, or the fancy drinks, it was a damn impressive space.


    The bar itself was called the Schadenfreude which probably had some pithy double-meaning lost over the years. Like many bars in New Madison, it had been the name of some pre-war bar according to a small brass plaque on the bar. Within the Schadenfreude, the Library and the Supper Club served as distinct areas. Remy paid a man in an old-style penguin suit far too much for a glass of gin far nicer than he needed and walked through the Library section.


    The Library was built with aged pre-war timbers, plump leather chairs, globes and knickknacks two centuries out of date, and real, honest-to-God leather bound books on the shelves. He knew better than to touch the books. No one would come to the library to read, but it was a key part of the illusion they sold. Instead, he paced through the winding chairs filled with folk who had more credits than sense checking out old photographs and trinkets.


    Damn, the gin went down quickly when it didn¡¯t sting like gasoline.


    He¡¯d been in here before, but only for meetings with potential clients and one really bad date that turned out to be a life insurance sales pitch. Remy had never had that much luck with women. He was here today though for something completely different. Before any job, Remy liked to case the location. Check it out like a local, exploring it¡¯s natural flow, where cameras might be, look for staff routines that others might miss, and generally find a way to do your job in the least disturbing way possible. Remy passed a polished brass column and noticed the still fading scars on his face from the Beltrider. His clothes and his face marked him as an outsider.


    ¡°Can I get you anything, sir?¡± A penguin-suited fella stood behind him with a small serving tray, gesturing to Remy¡¯s empty glass. Time to see if the codes had changed early this year.


    ¡°Are the cranberries fresh? I¡¯d heard good things about the harvest.¡± Remy offered his empty glass and a credit chip and waited. The waiter looked him over like the man at the coat check had done but gave the slightest of nods. If a raccoon could tip, the waiter would welcome him.


    ¡°Yes, sir. Shall I alert the chef of your choice?¡±


    ¡°Please do. And another gin, please.¡±


    The waiter slithered through the chairs and disappeared into the room behind the bar with Remy¡¯s empty glass. Remy moved into the Supper Club section and waited for someone to return. He was happy enough to remember the seasonal codewords but was about ready to knock the teeth out of the next mustached man who flicked his eyes over Remy discerningly. He made a mental note to pick up better shoes for the real thing. Josie had told him that they always look at your shoes first.


    Where the Library was built like a 19th century parlor room, the Supper Club was a ballroom, dining room, and tap house all at once. Thick barreled trusses arched over his head and large brick hearths contained fires on each side. Long wooden tables ran the length of the space and dining parties sat next to one another as waiters brought courses and drinks to their table. It was loud, warm, and busy. Traditional clothing or not, the diners looked ridiculous in their overpriced suits and evening dresses pulling up to a big shared wooden table. Traditions lingered longest among the richest and the poorest but the Freeworker mashed these traditions together in a jarring blur.


    A different thin man albeit with the same pencil-thin mustache brought Remy a freshened-up glass of gin and Remy handed him another credit chip. No one said casing was cheap. The waiter pocketed the chip a single smooth gesture without offering change.


    ¡°Your gin, sir. I¡¯m afraid the chef said, ¡®cranberries must linger 12 days before ripeness.¡¯ Will there be anything else?¡± Remy ran the words back through his head until he was sure he had them all memorized.


    ¡°That¡¯s all. Thanks.¡±


    He took another sip and slowly circled around the Supper Club. It really was excellent gin despite its price. He supposed folks here wouldn¡¯t abide with the swill Luis served down the street. Shit, he barely abided it. Casing a room this big was a challenge. Each shadow could hold a small camera, and since he was in plain sight as he walked around, there was no way to do a thorough job without being obvious as Josie would¡¯ve been. He wondered what she was doing tonight. She said something about laundry and working on some Vasc modifications, but he hadn¡¯t really been listening. Maybe he should¡¯ve let her come with; a second set of eyes might¡¯ve been useful. He finished a lap with most of his gin intact and walked through the Library section again. Only the public auction would be in the Supper Club so it wasn¡¯t as important. He hoped so at least. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Remy¡¯s boots clinked on the marble floor as he cross the lobby to the bank of lifts along its right side. He waited for an elderly man who had either his well-endowed granddaughter or his mistress on his arm to take one before he jumped into the next lift by himself. A digital panel with numbers and letters lit up in welcome.


    He punched the response in order.


    ¡°C¡­M¡­L¡­One¡­Two¡­D¡­B¡­R.¡±


    Nothing happened. Remy tried the order again, he¡¯d fat fingered codes before. Nothing happened.


    ¡°Cranberries must linger 12 days before ripeness. C,M,L,1,2,D,B,R.¡± A waiter could certainly give the wrong code when asked but Remy¡¯s shoes weren¡¯t so bad as that and he wasn¡¯t all pissed up enough to be turned away. He repeated it in his head. ¡°C¡­M¡­L¡­One¡­Two¡­D¡­B¡­R.¡± He groaned as an idea came to him. ¡°Oh, that would be stupid.¡±


    He punched in the code again. ¡°C¡­M¡­L¡­One¡­Two¡­D¡­B¡­4¡­R.¡± The lift rumbled to life and he felt it descend. Remy rolled his eyes. ¡°God damn it. ¡®Before.¡¯¡± He snorted. They probably thought themselves terribly clever for that joke.


    The lift opened into a hazy room that smelled like rich wood, tobacco, and expensive perfume, with all too much of each. An upbeat tune of an assortment of synthetic brass horns and bass guitar played in the background and a man crooned about his love for a girl who didn¡¯t love him the same. Two hundred years later and music might change but the key parts always stayed the same.


    An old man sat on a stool near the lift and offered Remy a cigar as he passed. Remy waved it away and walked through the bar. The servers here were more obnoxious than the penguin-suits above. The ladies wore short, glitzy dresses, and the men wore suspenders with rolled up sleeves. One of the girls approached him as he settled onto a stool at a high table near the corner. It offered a good view of the room and there was a wall at his back.


    ¡°What¡¯ll it be, hun? Want me to freshen that one up for you?¡± She smiled prettily up at him and beat her thick lashes. Men tipped more if they thought she liked them. Remy knew it was an act but it worked on him anyway. He slid a credit chip across the table.


    ¡°If you go get another one, I¡¯ll be ready when it gets here. Gin, no ice. Thanks.¡±


    She winked and bobbed between men smoking at the next table to repeat the process.


    ¡°Need something, sugar?¡± she asked and Remy returned to taking in the room.


    The speakeasy below the Freeworker was the worst kept secret in New Madison but that didn¡¯t matter. Secrets were valuable but not everything. Folks across the Federation knew the Redcaps kept their gold reserves in some military base out east but they¡¯d still shoot you on sight if you weren¡¯t supposed to be there. ¡°Secret¡± was a marketing trick as much as a practical effect. The good folks at the Freeworker might not shoot you in the head but your kneecaps might not work anymore if you we¡¯re caught where you weren¡¯t supposed to be.


    Freeworker¡¯s speakeasy wasn¡¯t anything special as far as a bar went. It had thick, dark wood, mirrored panels behind bottles on display, a hazy smoke of cigarettes and cigars, and old men leering at young women. Farther down, side rooms split off to give patrons a place for private conversations. He¡¯d spent a fair amount of time in those side rooms, once on a very successful date with a woman who had turned out to be a delayed prostitute. He just ended up paying her after and for several weeks. Remy finished his gin as the young waitress returned. You win some, you lose some. Today, he hoped to win.


    ¡°Here you go, hun.¡± She leaned in and brushed against him as she placed his new glass in front. She wore one of those perfumes that turned your head just a bit. ¡°I¡¯m Claire, let me know if you need anything else, alright?¡±


    ¡°Hey, my last name¡¯s Claire. Sort of.¡± He returned her smile. ¡°I¡¯m going to take this one on a walk, thanks.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll come find you.¡± She winked away again, back to another table. Remy followed her up and walked past her toward the back rooms. Each room was technically open to anyone but after coming a time or two - or just knowing who to ask - it was apparent that some rooms were explicitly for some folks and others for others. Happy Jack had a room, as did JD, but neither spent much time here. They had their own clubs and anyone who was anyone knew to go there instead. This was more of a social nicety.


    Remy went straight to the room furthest away from the main bar, the Gallery. Unlike the other private rooms, there wasn¡¯t much privacy in the Gallery. A broad, open space, with dim chandeliers lighting artwork from a dozen different eras. A few handfuls of groups milled about, looking at the different pieces and talking in the dark, quieter corners.


    Remy made a show of looking at each piece. He wasn¡¯t wearing nice enough clothes for the speakeasy¡¯s resident ladies to take notice of, which was a relief. It was always hard to say no to someone that insistent on taking their clothes off for you, even if he had to pay for it. Not that many were that insistent to do that for him, but better to avoid the temptation altogether. This room would hold the important auction and he was looking for more than artwork.


    He moved around the room, noting air vents, light fixtures, picture locations, and more, looking for anything they could exploit. He¡¯d nearly finished a track around the Gallery when his attentive serving girl found him. Claire touched his elbow and pulled the empty glass out of his other hand, replacing it with a fresh one.


    ¡°Figured it was time.¡± She looked up at the painting he stood in front of. It was the largest painting in the room, wider than Remy could reach and taking up the entire height. An ancient sailing ship tossed on dark blue-gray waters with brush strokes as big as your head. ¡°This ones my favorite, too.¡±


    Remy shrugged, he hadn¡¯t really noticed the painting itself. ¡°I don¡¯t know too much about any art, I¡¯m afraid.¡± It was true. This one was older than most of the others in here but that¡¯s about where it ended. ¡°I like these kind of ships.¡± That was true too. His granddad always watched reruns of this old flick about sea pirates sailing around the ocean back with cannons and scurvy and things.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s comforting. You know, like, here¡¯s this big ship with little tiny people on board, and the ocean is just tossing it around like its nothing, but they¡¯re holding on and trying anyway. There¡¯s some things bigger than us and we can¡¯t control that. Just, like, do what you can and hope for the best.¡± Claire wasn¡¯t smiling now and bit her lower lip. ¡°Probably silly.¡±


    Remy blinked.


    ¡°No, I think that¡¯s cool. Really.¡± Really. Remy had thought it was just an old wooden ship. The painting was a lot more interesting to look at now. ¡°Know anything about these other ones?¡± Claire smiled back at him and patted his arm. He glanced down and really saw her for the first time. She was pretty, with a diamond stud in a nose just a bit too large for her face. Tight black curls fell to her shoulder and her eyes looked like they liked to laugh.


    ¡°You¡¯re sweet, hun. I¡¯m just getting out of here though.¡±


    ¡°Oh, of course. Here, for the drink.¡± He fumbled in his pocket for another credit. ¡°Thanks for the lesson, then. I learned something new.¡±


    ¡°I work again on Saturday. If you come back, we can work through the others, deal?¡± She reached out her hand to shake and Remy took it. Her skin was soft and her fingers almost frail in his hand.


    ¡°You got it. Nice to meet you, Claire.¡±


    She exited through the only visible entrance - Remy had been hoping to see a secret staff door - and finished up looking over the last few paintings. He wobbled a bit as he reached the last one. Smooth gin just went down too quickly. Striking out on any obvious entrances, he slammed back the glass and wound his way back to the lifts.


    Remy retrieved his coat from the same disdainful mustachioed penguin-suit and popped up his collar against a stiff, and snowy wind that blew from the largest lake. He decided to walk home to sober up. It would do him no good if he kept coming home smelling like booze, smoke, and a strange perfume while Josie worked on her own tasks. Regardless of the smells he earned, he¡¯d decided before he reached the first intersection that he¡¯d be back on Saturday.

 Chapter 23: A Well-Worn Shoe

    Remy didn¡¯t really remember which night Josie had moved from the couch to the other side of his bed. He didn¡¯t remember the first time they¡¯d had sex either. She¡¯d never asked and he¡¯d never said no. Or was it the other way around? Josie might¡¯ve had a few more curves and a tattoo he didn¡¯t remember from their first time around, but he had more curves too. Remy knew no one would confuse his own life for one of clean eating and keeping fit. It didn¡¯t matter. She was beautiful.


    Defining a relationship established expectations. Remy couldn¡¯t define anything about Josie. They each kept their own hours, ran down their own leads, and occasionally came home smelling of smoke, cheap booze, and strange scents. It was like a broken-in pair of shoes, worn down in all the right places. They¡¯d slipped right into the habit. It was easy. Comfortable.


    Josie had made fajitas that night. Well, she had warmed up the take-out and added some hot sauce. Remy picked at his own slowly. Tomorrow was Saturday, and they¡¯d been unable to think of any other way into the Freeworker¡¯s basement than straight down the main lift¡¯s.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll have to go back tomorrow then.¡± Remy said, picking a hot pepper from his plate. ¡°Maybe I can get us an invite to the auction itself. Don¡¯t know how much it¡¯ll help with Franklin already there but it¡¯ll be something at least.¡±


    ¡°You can get one?¡± Josie attacked her own meal with fervor, though there must¡¯ve been more cheese than chicken on her tortilla.


    ¡°Maybe.¡± He shrugged. It wasn¡¯t much of a hope but his basic plan was just to ask Claire for the code that night. If they could at least get down there, it gave them a chance at something. ¡°Did you have any luck today finding where that dummy Vasc is?¡±


    ¡°Not really. Luis didn¡¯t seem to remember it and shuffled off before I could offer much more.¡± Remy¡¯d been shot down point blank when he¡¯d asked and he thought a pretty face might¡¯ve stood a better chance. Apparently not. ¡°We¡¯ll find it, though.¡±


    He grunted, chewing a tough piece of replicated chicken.


    After dinner, they settled onto the couch and flipped through the channels. There was nothing good on. Josie dragged him to bed after he¡¯d started snoring during the late shows. She pulled his arm over her and nestled in close under the covers. She fits so neatly there. He thought. Remy was still teasing out what her shampoo smelled like when he drifted to sleep.


    Comfortable and easy.

 Chapter 24: A Cockroach & a Weak Man

    Remy tapped the same code with the same stupid joke into the Freeworker¡¯s lift and it rumbled down to the speakeasy. He checked his Vasc for what had to be the tenth time since leaving home. He had turned down the man at the coat check tonight to keep his jacket as a cover for his arm unit. It might be warm, but it would be better than wearing an illegal cloaked Vasc in public. Josie¡¯s Shusher was still loaded and he felt charged enough to use it if necessary. Swapping it out might knock him unconscious, of course, but the Shusher itself had already been loaded. He took a cigar from the doorman and tipped him with a chip.


    The lounge was busier on a Saturday night, standing room only, in fact, with local politicians and business leaders hobnobbing at tables next to starlets and all manner of dogs begging for scraps. Groupies for all three hoping to land someone important to go home with flitted about. Except, given the speakeasy¡¯s exclusivity, the groupies were of various importance too. Such a sad, little rat race, he thought. Remy flicked the end of his cigar to light it and pulled on it deeply. He worked through the crowd and went to the Gallery.


    Claire was no where to be found but it was a busy night; she¡¯d be around eventually. The Gallery was also more crowded than it had been earlier in the week, but he tried to look for new clues that he had missed before.


    Remy found himself staring at the paintings more thoroughly tonight, lingering over the canvas instead of hunting clues. A sad clown with a bundle of balloons, an empty pasture with a lonely horse and a falling down stable, two women dancing in the park under parasols. He couldn¡¯t think of something profound or important about all of them but he could pick out little things he liked in each. The clown¡¯s nose looked a lot like Alvin the School House drunk¡¯s, for instance. Progress.


    He took a step and nearly fell into a painting of a bunch of splattered paints before catching himself. Glancing around, everyone was still engaged in their own conversations. No one had noticed his literal social misstep. Looking down, he found his first clue since arriving. A thin black line ran across the floor, meeting a perpendicular one near the splatter painting. Remy nudged it with his foot and it was raised, just a bit. Thank God for a shuffling habit.


    ¡°That¡¯s for auctions.¡± Claire¡¯s voice spun him around. She was holding a gin in her hand, wearing the same cocktail dress with a neckline that plunged all the way down, and a sparkling necklace nestled in the middle. It certainly drew the eyes. ¡°Thought I saw you sneak back here. Brought you something.¡±


    He took the glass from her and fumbled for a credit chip. She shook her head.


    ¡°First ones on the house today. It¡¯s Brandon¡¯s birthday, he¡¯s the owner.¡±


    ¡°Well, then, to Brandon, I guess. And to you for finding me.¡± He took a drink and she stepped up close to look at the splatter painting behind him. Remy fought not to glance down her dress as he turned too. She was over a foot shorter than he was, blessed by whatever Lord you wished in her womanly fortunates, and smelled like danger. Like his father before him, Remy knew he was a weak man.


    ¡°What do you think about this one?¡± she asked pointing to the splatter painting. Remy tried to take it in. Some parts were splotchy, as if the artist just flicked their brush against the canvas, while other strokes were longer, like the artist just did the same thing but with more paint. The more he looked, there seemed to be a pattern to the mess. Every time Remy thought he¡¯d picked out the pattern, it dissolved in front of him into disorder.


    ¡°Well, uh, I think it¡¯s about something like order and chaos. Like, even if things look messy, there¡¯s probably some order to it and it¡¯ll make sense if the pieces come together. Or something like that.¡± There must be some pattern to it.


    Claire nodded and took in the painting.


    ¡°Huh, I always just liked how the color contrasts and how they stand out against the white.¡± She grabbed his elbow. ¡°If you¡¯re not careful, you¡¯ll get good at this. Come on, what about this one?¡±


    They moved to the dancing women with parasols. It was nice to have Claire at his side. Remy could listen to her talk about the paintings for hours. A serving man came up with a fresh drink for Remy, this time accepting a credit chip for the drink. Remy frowned, considering a gaudy neon-colored painting with towering buildings. There were other serving men and women moving throughout the Gallery and no one else lingered with the patrons. Why was Claire? His stomach lurched as he considered it. Was he a mark? Did they figure out why he was there? No, they couldn¡¯t have. He hadn¡¯t told anyone but Josie and Franklin, and both could be trusted. He started to sweat under his jacket and wished he hadn¡¯t taken it past the coat check. He caught her watching him out of the corner of her eyes and he fumbled to fill the silence.


    ¡°Oh, my name¡¯s Remy, by the way. I didn¡¯t give it to you last week.¡±


    She smiled. Her face was great for smiling. ¡°I know. Though, you not mentioning it the first time made me interested. A mystery, you know? Hey, what are you doing?¡± her voice changed and rose at the end and Remy saw her spin away out of the corner of his eye. She scowled.


    ¡°Think you can just leave like that? We paid you, girl, and we expect services rendered, you get me?¡± Remy knew that voice. He turned. Fucking JD. This guy was like a cockroach, always scurrying around everyone Remy wished he wouldn¡¯t. Claire wrenched her arm back from JD¡¯s hand.


    ¡°I¡¯m not one of those girls and you know that. I didn¡¯t take your money, so just leave me alone. You know the rules.¡±


    ¡°You know who I am, right?¡±


    Remy hadn¡¯t wanted to get into a fight today but it was looking like the prospects for that were dimming. He gulped a drank and spoke before Claire could respond.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you a bit old to be harassing the staff, JD?¡± Remy stepped between Claire and JD. His face flashed in recognition and he scowled. Remy just hoped he wouldn¡¯t Vasc him right there. It would be embarrassing to be taken to the hospital with a hundred years of illicit Vascs loaded up. JD didn¡¯t flinch. Small victories.


    ¡°Remy. I would think a man in your situation would want to avoid me, eh?¡± The man looked like a dog with a thorn in its foot.


    ¡°Well, I figured you¡¯d be in your own little club beating up your own girls down there. Tired of ¡®em not hitting back?¡± Remy glanced at his glass and wondered for a moment where this backbone was coming from. He never figured himself a coward, of course, but staying alive was always better for business than the alternative.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    ¡°Does your girlfriend know you¡¯re here alone? With a pretty young thing like this? I¡¯d hate for you to hurt Josephine simply for a dip into the hired help.¡± JD sneered. He had one of those faces you couldn¡¯t help but want to punch. Remy clenched his free hand.


    ¡°Look, man, she said ¡®no thanks¡¯, get lost.¡± It was too late to get back in JD¡¯s good graces and he didn¡¯t really care if he was firming up a place on the thug¡¯s shit list. With any luck, Remy would be on a shuttle far away from here this time next week. Without luck, well¡­ It was better to think that the luck would find him.


    JD looked around the Gallery and noticed a few nearby patrons beginning to pay more attention to their exchange under raised eyebrows. A few shuffled from the room, eager to be away from any chance of violence. He chewed on his cigar and blew smoke into Remy¡¯s face. He fought the urge to cough. Petty son of a¡­


    ¡°See you around, Remy.¡± He spared a last glance to Claire and snorted. Two people, a man and a woman, followed JD from the room. Remy hadn¡¯t seen the bodyguards before he started getting in JD¡¯s face.


    ¡°You too, bud.¡± He said to no one.


    Claire looked like she had seen a ghost and the other folks who¡¯d seen the exchange didn¡¯t hide their open appraisal of Remy. Guess JD¡¯s reputation was known even in respectable quarters. As respectable as anyone could be, he supposed. So much for subtlety.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to do that.¡± Claire said quietly. ¡°But thanks. Some guys are creeps.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t I know it.¡± Remy muttered, staring after JD. He took a long pull of gin and wiped a dribble from his stubble with the back of his hand. ¡°Look, we should probably get out of here and let JD¡¯s boys cool down some.¡± He could always try again in the next week. The auction was still a week out and there would be other chances to get some information. It wasn¡¯t worth an alleyway beating on his way home. Or worse for her. Just a beating would be pleasant comparatively. Claire shook her head.


    ¡°No, I have another hour here. It¡¯ll be okay.¡±


    ¡°You know JD, then, I take it. I¡¯ve had that displeasure as well. He¡¯s liable to do something stupid tonight and I think it¡¯d be better if you weren¡¯t here when he did. I can walk you out.¡±


    She chewed her lip, like she did when looking at a painting, and finally nodded.


    ¡°Let me grab my things.¡± He followed her through the crowd and tried not to look into JD¡¯s private room as they passed. Maybe he and Josie should stay in a hotel for a few days. His apartment was in a fake name, of course, but no sense taking the risk.


    She popped behind the bar and whispered to a burly man in suspenders who glanced at Remy and nodded. Claire and Remy entered the lift and the doors rumbled shut.


    ¡°We can go out the back.¡± She started to punch a code he didn¡¯t recognize into the panel. Remy scrambled to remember it. The panel accepted the code and they rumbled further down. He repeated the code to himself over and over. Finally a stroke of luck.


    It opened into a locker room of sorts and Claire told him to wait while she changed out of her serving dress. He tried to take everything in. This could be their best chance. Take the code into the employee area below the speakeasy, find where the vault room was, break in, make the swap. Golden. Claire reappeared wearing a woolen black coat and a hat pulled down to cover her ears. Remy straightened quickly from where he was examining the lift¡¯s panel for hidden bio-scanners.


    ¡°You got everything?¡±


    She nodded. Keeping his coat turned out to be a great idea. He hadn¡¯t needed the Vasc but it was convenient now that he didn¡¯t have to go back to the lobby. She grabbed his hand and pulled him down a narrow corridor in the left corner. A similar one ran to the right.


    Remy focused on mapping the path in his head. Extra kitchens sat dark and unused to the side of their path and doors marked ¡°Storage¡± and ¡°Electrical¡± lined the other. Should¡¯ve worn a Quant, he thought dimly. His memory would have to do.


    ¡°Pretty dark down here. These used often?¡± Small-talk that he hoped was natural enough not to sound suspicious. He was having a hard enough time mentally mapping the place without losing track himself. Any little detail might be crucial. He just hoped she was distracted enough to ramble without suspicion.


    ¡°Not really. Mostly extra space now. Guess the better appliances upstairs cleared up enough room to close these down. Up here, there¡¯s a room we use for special event storage but I don¡¯t really go in there.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡±


    They passed a thick door looking markedly different and Remy was sure they¡¯d passed the vault. In a week, the prototype would be there before auction and it might be their best chance to get it. If not, stealing it from the buyer could be a lot harder.


    After walking down increasingly sparse hallways, they finally reached an advanced door with two security panels. One was a code that Claire didn¡¯t bother to cover. It was the same as the lift code. Thank God. And a retinal and fingerprint scanner combination on the other. He frowned. It would be tough to load enough Vascs to spoof that combination. He hoped Josie would have an idea. She was so much better with this sort of thing.


    They popped out into a refreshingly cold night, several blocks from the Freeworker. The door was unremarkable unless you knew where to look, and tucked into an alcove hidden from the alley. Worth keeping in mind.


    Claire turned to him and grabbed his coat lapels. She was strong, and he let her pull him closer. He was a weak man.


    ¡°Hey, I know I said it before but, really, thank you. I don¡¯t know what I would¡¯ve done if you weren¡¯t there.¡± Her eyes glistened and he noticed for the first time how incredibly blue they were. Piercing, like shards of ice.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. Happy to be there.¡± Thank you¡¯s always made Remy uncomfortable. In his world, thanks implied a favor owed but doing the right thing to earn a favor was a bit sleazy, even by his own standards. Fortunately for Remy, she didn¡¯t mention it again. Instead, she smiled quickly and glanced down the alley before setting off. Remy followed at her hip.


    After that, Claire and Remy shared the idle chatter of new friends on a walk. The weather was cold. She really liked that sushi place down Park Street. No, Remy didn¡¯t order anything but gin if he could help it. He didn¡¯t really know why. Mild truths, and harmless lies. Stuff like that. Topics shifted as they grew close to her place.


    ¡°So, your girlfriend, huh? You and JD must have some history if he knows you like that.¡± Claire asked as they reached her block. Remy coughed into his hand. He hadn¡¯t thought of Josie like that but supposed it would be tough to explain the distinction. Friends with benefits? Woman he used to and sometimes still does sleep with? It was a fine needle to thread. Claire jumped into the pause and smiled. ¡°Hey, listen, I don¡¯t care. We all have our own arrangements.¡±


    Arrangements?


    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s not, not like that. It¡¯s¡­well¡­complicated.¡±


    They reached her door as he was still stammering a response. She quieted him with a look.


    ¡°Want to come inside?¡±


    Claire unlocked her door and opened it a bit. Warm air rushed out and it melted the frost from the stubble beneath his nose. He shouldn¡¯t. Couldn¡¯t. No, not before a job like this. Business. Yes, business.


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t tonight, Claire.¡± Even as he said it, he knew it sounded like the most wishy-washy rejection he could muster. He was leaving in a week, why leave the door open for something here? The girl was ten years his junior, at least, and could do much better than a man gone soft about the middle and going gray. She smiled and shrugged.


    ¡°Sounds like a lucky girl. Maybe, I¡¯d like to meet her too sometime. Night, Remy, thank you again.¡± She reached up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek and her perfume nearly pulled him down. Mercifully, it was short and she closed the door behind her.


    He spent the surprisingly short walk to his apartment hoping the wind would take care of the perfume and trying not to imagine Claire taking that jacket off. Business, indeed.


    Josie was already sleeping when he got home and he decided they could wait until tomorrow before moving to a safer place. JD seemed busy enough tonight. Their room smelled faintly of cherry blossoms. It was soothing. He slipped under the covers next to her and kissed her shoulder. He didn¡¯t remember when he¡¯d started doing that either. Maybe she was his girlfriend. He tried not to think about how his night with Stefanie fit in, or what she might think of the strange perfume on his body.

 Chapter 25: A Warning and A Chance

    Stefanie sent him a message on Monday but it was Wednesday morning before he replied. It had been one of those weeks where he saw the notification, knew he should reply but always found some excuse to put it off for later or the morning. Each subsequent, more urgent, note from Stefanie reminded him to reply and each one found its own reason to delay.


    She wanted to meet up with him again and discuss the job. He wanted to meet, as well. Smells of cinnamon wafted through his mind. A hand grasping at his trousers flashed before his eyes. A tumble of thick, bright red hair crashing down on him rhythmically. Beautiful, pungent, and sweet. God damn it, but he wanted to go see her again. Something held his hand. Business, he told himself. There was a job to do, and Stefanie was a distraction. One goddess of a distraction.


    It wasn¡¯t like she didn¡¯t deserve a response, either. She¡¯d hired him to do a job so she was a client, same as any other. But she wasn¡¯t like any other, not by a long shot. She was unique, and intoxicating, like a cool glass of good gin. But then again, so was Josie.


    They were like fire and ice, how could you compare something so different? Stefanie was fire and he burned when he was with her. Passionate, crazed thoughts that he knew would burn him alive but he couldn¡¯t help himself any more than he could stop breathing. Josie was ice. She preserved him, and made him contemplative. A crisp winter¡¯s morning invigorated you without you realizing it and ice could burn just as painfully as fire.


    Remy left his comm on their coffee table and went to pour himself a mug of brown sludge coffee that he liked. It wasn¡¯t any good, but addictions were addictions. He took it back to the living room and found Josie standing over the coffee table, comm unit in her hand.


    Fuck.


    ¡°Your comm keeps vibrating. Expecting a call?¡± Josie tossed him the device from across the couch. Remy glanced at the screen: three more messages from Stefanie.


    ¡°Is she the one who gave you the new job?¡± Josie had clearly glanced at the screen. He didn¡¯t blame her. It lit up with each message. You¡¯d have to try to not notice.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± No sense in keeping the pieces of the puzzle from her. The two of them were something now, at any rate. Whatever that specifically was could be determined later.


    ¡°Why did she pick you?¡±


    Remy wasn¡¯t prepared for that question so he frowned and scratched his stubble. She¡¯d been with him on their last big heist and a half-dozen before that. Josie knew he was capable enough to do the job.


    ¡°Why what? I do have a reputation for this sort of thing, you know.¡±


    She shook her head, ¡°Not that. I mean, why does she want the prototype? What¡¯s she going to do with it?¡±


    Remy opened his mouth and snapped it shut. She wouldn¡¯t like the real answer. Did he even like the real answer anymore? Of course, he did. Fire and ice.


    ¡°Uh, I¡¯m not really sure. I think she had a buyer or something. Trying to get out of town after her husband¡¯s death.¡± And take me with her. What would happen to Josie? Fire and ice.


    ¡°But if you promised it to Franklin, she can¡¯t sell it to someone else. What¡¯s she bringing to this job? Seems to me that its just a liability at this point. If we play this right, we can cut her out without her even realizing what we¡¯ve done.¡± Josie pressed him on this and Remy didn¡¯t have any answers let alone good ones. He had to admit that Stefanie really didn¡¯t bring that much to their plan outside of his own, selfish, reasons. He felt a headache coming on and rubbed his eyes.


    ¡°Look, it¡¯s just important, okay? Trust that I know what I¡¯m doing?¡± He stood up and found his duster and hat. ¡°I¡¯m going for a walk. Be back.¡± He left his coffee steaming on the counter and walked out.


    She didn¡¯t stop him. Remy stepped onto the icy sidewalk and tapped out a reply.


    ***


    Remy didn¡¯t know where he was going when he stepped out onto the sidewalk, only that he needed some fresh air. Well, fresh as fresh could be at any rate. No sense paying for time in an ecodome or something. Fresh enough. He started walking, head down and shoulders hunched. A lit cigarette dangled from his lip, burning absently.


    Snow had fallen the night before, a thin and wispy amount to slick the sidewalks and trip up the older folks. His footfalls brushed the snow away and before he knew it, his feet carried him to the School House. He settled onto his usual stool next to Alvin passed out on the bar. 11 a.m. had come early today. Neither Luis nor anyone else was behind the bar at the moment so he grabbed a paper from the stack Alvin kept near him and read the headlines.


    He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a voice.


    ¡°Well, now, if it isn¡¯t young Remy. How¡¯ve you been, my boy?¡± Happy Jack ambled over to him behind the bar with a wide fucking smile on his smug face. Must be wearing a Shusher to move that fat ass so quietly.


    ¡°Morning, Jack. How¡¯s business?¡± Remy fished out another cigarette from his pocket and flicked it on, trying to focus on the paper. Maybe he¡¯d just go away. It worked with lesser pests.


    ¡°You know, I was a hoping I¡¯d see you here today and that you¡¯d ask me that. How is my business doing, Remy? You doing something in the next week or so I ought to know about? Something that is directly related to my business, hmm?¡± Jack leaned on the bar in front of him close enough for Remy to count his nose hairs. There were more than five apiece and white as the snow in the sky.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Fuck. He set the paper aside and sighed.


    ¡°Look, I¡¯m just here for a drink, you know I don¡¯t want any trouble.¡± His voice was cool, but his mind raced trying to think of what else Jack could be referencing but the auction. He wouldn¡¯t give a damn about that JD business over the weekend. Coming up blank, he just hoped Jack had another job going on over the next few days. There was a lot of happenings every day in New Madison and not everything was an unfortunate coincidence. It couldn¡¯t be every time, at least.


    ¡°Yes, well, Remy, my boy. I¡¯m afraid trouble has had a rather good history of finding you regardless of if you wish it or not.¡±


    That was true enough. Since taking Stefanie¡¯s first job, he¡¯d become far closer with the seedier parts of New Madison than he¡¯d care to. That meant a lot coming from a guy like him too.  He¡¯d always counted himself as rough and tumble folk, but then there were the true wicked bastards like Jack and JD. Toss in a chance encounter with the Inspector, and whomever else he¡¯d managed to piss off during the Beltrider and it had been a productive two months. He wondered briefly what the Inspector had been doing in that time, before shaking it away. That ticket out of New Madison couldn¡¯t come soon enough.


    ¡°I mean it, Jack. I don¡¯t have anything going on with you and I don¡¯t want to. Whatever your business this weekend is, I¡¯m not a part of it. You did me a favor, I did you a favor, we¡¯re square.¡±


    It was becoming apparent that Remy wasn¡¯t going to get that drink he was after. That was fine. There were plenty of bars in New Madison and most of them didn¡¯t have Happy Jack behind the counter. He stood up to leave.


    ¡°Hold on now, I won¡¯t keep you long. I appreciate you saying that, Remy, I really do. And I remember fellas that treat me right, you know. You have a nice day, you hear?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, you too.¡±


    He tossed the paper on Alvin¡¯s stack and left the School House. If Jack was still a player in this too, this would be a lot more difficult. He pulled up his collar and glanced down the street for an ¡°open¡± sign. Honest-to-God, he needed that drink.


    ***


    Remy¡¯s trouble with Happy Jack was about to get a whole lot more complicated. Josie managed to find them a blank dummy Vasc and had even tracked down the one Remy¡¯d given to Luis a lifetime ago. Unfortunately, that Vasc had made its way into Jack¡¯s personal collection and it was hard for him to get excited over stealing from Jack, especially given their conversation at the School House. In the end though, what was one more gangster with a bone to pick? He hoped to be far from New Madison when Jack realized what they¡¯d done.


    She told him the story over a pile of cheap noodles and sticky-sweet meats.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t so hard once I knew where to look. Jack¡¯s got lots of storehouses, see, and Luis bragged about doing Jack a favor at the School a few nights ago. Figured it was a good start.¡±


    ¡°When did you get a chance to go to the School?¡± Remy and Josie had explored a number of downtown bars in the past few weeks but only once or twice to the School. One of the last ties to who he was before all of this. It wasn¡¯t much, and he didn¡¯t even really like the place that much, but it was his.


    ¡°Saturday. You must¡¯ve been late, I didn¡¯t see you come in.¡± He¡¯d walked Claire home that night. He remembered the perfume and hoped she wasn¡¯t still awake when he got into bed. She continued without saying anything more about it. ¡°Anyways, I hear him talking to a few of what must¡¯ve been Jack¡¯s guys about their boss owing him a favor and they say something about doing the grunt work of hauling a favor. So I just followed them when they left.¡±


    Josie stuffed a fork full of noodles into her mouth and slurped them up. Remy blinked.


    ¡°You followed them?¡±


    ¡°Yep. Just followed them. Men aren¡¯t ever that concerned if they see a lone woman behind them.¡± She talked with half her mouth filled with food. Josie must¡¯ve caught Remy¡¯s look and she shook her head.


    ¡°If you got a Shusher on, it¡¯s pretty easy. I¡¯m not an idiot, you know.¡±


    Remy knew he wasn¡¯t going to win an argument over something that had already happened so it was better to just move on. Following a group of Jack¡¯s boys to God-knows-where. He briefly considered pressing that idiot point, but let that go too before she stabbed him with that fork instead of her noodles.


    ¡°Okay, where did they go then? Straight to a storehouse?¡±


    ¡°Yep, if you can believe it. It was even a topside facility so I didn¡¯t have to figure out a way down without being seen. I just followed them down a couple ten blocks away to this squat apartment building. They went into this blacked out coffee place on the first floor and I couldn¡¯t see them. So, I just waited thirty minutes or so, then followed them in.¡±


    Remy knew that Jack and JD had some facilities top side. It just made sense for guys who moved that much volume of Vascs, drugs, and other goods of varying legality. Buyers needed money and if you had money, you lived topside. He picked at his meat and noodles and gestured her to continue.


    ¡°That¡¯s all there was, really. I thought I was a goner when I saw one sitting in a chair near the back but he must¡¯ve been sleeping. Crept right up and whack! Wrench to the temple brought him down.¡±


    He¡¯d thought he¡¯d done something cool by getting into the speakeasy and flirting with a cocktail waitress for some pass codes. Josie straight up wrenched a guy in the middle of Jack¡¯s facility. He shut his gaping mouth.


    ¡°Did his buddy hear anything then?¡±


    She shook her head.


    ¡°Nope, Shusher.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right.¡±


    ¡°Anyways, I fiddle with the digital lock and pick the manual one and I was in. No sign of the other guy, thank God. Only took a few minutes of rummaging to find the box of Vascs and the dummy one was pretty apparent if you know what to look for. Jack must not have truly appreciated what it was if it was just sitting in a box like that.¡±


    Remy finished the last meat in his tray and replaced the plastic lid on the rest to toss out. No one wanted a pile of soggy noodles for leftovers anyway.


    ¡°So you replaced it with a spare, right?¡± Jack might not know what it was exactly, but he knew what he had and would make a thief pay the difference in blood.


    She nodded. ¡°Yeah, I brought an old Volt that didn¡¯t work anymore so I spent a minute just filing off the serials and the color. It looked passable at least.¡±


    Josie went on to tell him about her trek back, making sure she hadn¡¯t killed the poor guard. She hadn¡¯t, so she took his loaded Vasc - a Volt to replace the one she left in the supply room - and made a mess of the front room to make it look like a simple robbery. Winding her way back to the apartment to avoid any kind of trail took most of the night. Their talk drifted to other things. Cleaning up dinner, watching part of the Gladiator¡¯s game, and getting to bed at a somewhat reasonable hour. He drifted to sleep and was almost there when her frozen toes found his calves for warmth. Her soft snores signaled she¡¯d found sleep but he laid there staring at the ceiling thinking over their plan.


    Importantly, they had the last piece of the puzzle for the heist.  Franklin had been explicit about needing a dummy prototype to make their plan work. Josie¡¯s impromptu fake might fool some grunt of Jack¡¯s but it wouldn¡¯t last very long against the experts that would be bidding on the auction. Now, with a legitimate dummy prototype, they could make it work.

 Chapter 26: Beneath the Freeworker

    Remy tugged at his collar and took a drink from a passing penguin-suited waiter. Fuck whatever bastard who determined what men wore in these places. Ties had been old fashioned before the first bomb fell. Of all the things that died out since then, ties couldn¡¯t be one of them? He tugged a finger at his collar. The shirt was tighter than the last time he¡¯d worn it. Josie must¡¯ve shrunk it in the wash.


    He took a sip of his drink. It was gin. Sort of. Gin plus, as dad always called it. Served in a fancy glass with a drop or two of vermouth but gin nonetheless. He saw Franklin across the room entertaining a gaggle of local dignitaries. They laughed at his jokes and offered to bring him drink after drink. The Keymaker - though none of them knew him as such - lorded over his kingdom with a firm peach margarita-filled hand.


    Josie was no where to be seen which was for the best. Most heists didn¡¯t go well if a camera or unfortunately bright waiter caught a few familiar faces in just the right inconvenient areas over and over again. Easier to stick to the plan and improvise if necessary.


    His job was to look suave at the bar and tip well. Peacocking was one of the better jobs you could do in a heist and it laid the groundwork for when shit went sideways later on. A few friendly faces or a greased hand could defuse suspicion as fast as actually being innocent. Sometimes, even faster. It was going pretty well so far.


    ¡°Oh, I think you dropped this.¡± A pretty young thing in a black dress handed a piece of paper to Remy. She was pretty in an eager way, trying hard to look like she wasn¡¯t trying hard with her hair up in a casual way that undoubtedly took hours and a can of spray. All the same, he took the paper and pocketed it.


    ¡°Thanks, can I buy you a drink? Name¡¯s Remy.¡± He offered his hand and she took it. He bit back a frown. Cold and clammy was unpleasant no matter how pretty the face.


    ¡°God¡¯s sake, you don¡¯t have to buy everyone a drink just to flirt. Say hi, ask how her day is, compliment her shoes.¡± Josie said in his ear. He scratched the back of his ear and the volume dimmed. He¡¯d become pretty good at tuning out her implant in his ear but Josie liked to comment. Remy felt a twinge of guilt ordering another woman a drink within earshot of Josie. He suddenly hoped he didn¡¯t run into Claire tonight. Maybe she¡¯d be working the outside of the speakeasy instead of the auction itself. Somehow, he doubted he would have the luck to spare for something like that.


    ¡°I¡¯m Wendy. Vodka tonic if you¡¯d like.¡± She sidled up next to him at the bar. Remy waved for Patrick and the penguin toddled over.


    ¡°Vodka tonic for the lady.¡±


    He bowed away to make it the old fashioned way with a shaker and everything. Always working for that extra tip. Patrick smiled and twirled the bottle with a flourish.


    ¡°So what brings you here Wendy? Bidding tonight?¡± The nice thing about a gin plus cocktail was that it got better with every sip. What started with a pucker against the new ingredient intruding upon the familiar was now leaving him hankering for an olive or three. She smiled and shook her head.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not much for collecting Vascs but it¡¯s for a good cause right?¡±


    ¡°Great cause.¡± Remy agreed. He had no idea what cause it was for. Save the whales? Kill the whales? That had been an oversight in their planning. ¡°So, just contributing via a bar tab then, huh?¡±


    ¡°Well, you are. Not me.¡±


    ¡°Touch¨¦.¡±


    Wendy was a real nice girl, it seemed. She was an intern in Revolution Hall and had just graduated from the Academy. Young and dumb. There was a time, not all that long ago when that would¡¯ve been the exact type of girl that Remy would¡¯ve gone for. Josie only popped into his ear twice more to make comments. Like she could talk. She was one to talk, given her own proclivity for feeling up some man near as young as Wendy and getting her own free drinks. There was no jealousy in the thought, but it did warm his collar.


    After two cocktails and Wendy assuring him that it was truly her number in his pocket, - ¡°You¡¯re not actually going to call her, are you?¡± - she took her leave to the ¡°little girls room.¡± Remy disappeared from the bar in that time, tossing a much too large credit chip to Patrick as he went. The bartender pocketed it with a grin, and Remy figured he would cover for the abrupt disappearance.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The real auction was approaching and it was time for Remy to get into position. Conversation in the lobby echoed up the open atrium and it didn¡¯t take a lot of skill to weave toward the bank of lifts along the back wall.


    He waited for what could have been the same old man with either his granddaughter or his much too young date to take a lift and he hopped into the next unoccupied one. Remy ran through the code and the lift whirred to life.


    ¡°You ready?¡± he whispered.


    ¡°Already down here, chief. Hiding in the old kitchens.¡± Josie replied.


    ¡°Be there soon.¡±


    He walked through the staff locker room which was mercifully empty. He hadn¡¯t loaded a Vasc to deal with it and only had an old style pre-war hand gun to take care of inconveniences. It was loud, messy, and would blow the plan to bits. But, if Happy Jack¡¯s boys found him in a dark corner he wouldn¡¯t have much of a choice. His eyes lingered on Claire¡¯s locker as he passed through and thought, for just a moment, that he could smell her perfume.


    Josie was sitting on a steel table swinging her legs and snapping her gum.


    ¡°Hey, buy a girl a drink?¡± she winked doing a bad impression of Wendy.


    He would¡¯ve too, with her looking like that. Josie dolled up was a sight to see and she was dressed to the nines for the auction. Even though her part was under the auction, it would be easier to claim she got lost if she looked like a rich, confused socialite instead of a black-clad cat burglar. He and Franklin were the public faces.


    ¡°Oh, shut up. You ready?¡±


    ¡°Not even shots? Remy, I thought you knew how to treat a woman. Do you think she was a prostitute? You¡¯re a good looking guy, Rem, but it makes sense at a place like this, right? Single guy at the bar, and all.¡±


    She would be picking at him about this for awhile. He hoped so at least. That meant they made it out together and no one was bleeding out in an alley and he wasn¡¯t racked up with 50,000 volts coursing through clamps on his nipples.


    Josie followed him further down the hallway popping cherry gum and laughing at her own jokes. She must¡¯ve had a drink or three before coming down. That¡¯s okay, he¡¯d had them too. Booze made everything just a bit easier. Then harder. The trick was to walk the fine line between expertise and stumbling down steps.


    ¡°You pre-loaded?¡± She asked quietly.


    ¡°You¡¯ve asked me that already.¡±


    ¡°Well, a Displacer takes awhile. You remember the Beltrider. Just want to make sure you¡¯re adapted.¡±


    ¡°Guess we don¡¯t have much of a choice either way, at this point.¡± He hoped he was adapted. Displacement was an awful feeling, even when the Vasc could be fully-loaded. A faulty load might kill him. He¡¯d really only have one chance to get it right.


    The electrical room that Remy remembered was much further down the hall than he¡¯d initially planned for. They wound through the Freeworker¡¯s bowels past familiar doors and inviting side paths. Surely, there were other secrets of the rich and famous down here. Clandestine affairs, stashed lock boxes, maybe a dead body or two. A wistful part of him almost regretted leaving New Madison without taking a peak. Almost.


    ¡°There¡¯s the back of the vault so that means the electrical room is just around the corner.¡± he pointed to the large metal slab. And, as promised, the electrical door was there. He gave Josie a smile out of the corner of his mouth. ¡°Think you can get in?¡±


    Josie tossed him the look and started working on the lock. He smirked, realizing how much he¡¯d missed having someone whose look had that effect on him.


    He continued down the hall to keep watch and listened in on Franklin¡¯s ear piece. He didn¡¯t talk much, letting the sycophants drone on and taking it in. By the sound of it, they¡¯d entered the speakeasy. Franklin would head right into the auction with his ticket. Not that he really needed one. Franklin had given Remy his second one and he was supposed to go in right before it was about to start and wait near the back. If things went right, they¡¯d only have one chance at it.


    ¡°Got it.¡±


    Remy returned to the electrical room and found Josie digging through a rat¡¯s nest of wires. There were four large panels along the far wall with thick bundles of wires connecting to the floor. Josie was digging under one conveniently labeled ¡°Vault¡±. Electricians liked knowing what they worked on so it didn¡¯t really make sense to leave the panels a mystery.


    ¡°What can I do?¡± Remy knew the answer was nothing. She had the sparky thumb, but a man had to ask.


    ¡°Nothing. I think I got it here.¡± She followed a thick green wire from the panel down to the floor. ¡°Yeah, this one.¡± Josie brushed a thick black curl back from her eyes.


    ¡°Got the plan?¡±


    ¡°Volt on your signal for five seconds. Lock up behind me, rendezvous outside. You got your part?¡±


    ¡°Go in, look good, try not to die. What¡¯s not to know.¡±


    Josie gave him that look again. A woman could say a lot without saying anything at all.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, really,¡± Remy said. ¡°The Displacers been loaded for three days. Feeling good. Franklin could probably load two or three of things without a problem. Honest, I feel good.¡± It might¡¯ve been the booze talking but he actually did. He¡¯d almost fainted the first time he tried Displacing during the Beltrider. This time would be trickier but it would go better. It had to go better..


    ¡°Alright. Come here.¡±


    She gave him a kiss ¡°for luck¡± and pushed him out the door. Remy walked back to the lift hoping it wasn¡¯t their last.

 Chapter 27: Familiar Faces

    God, he wanted a cigarette. Remy fished around his pocket and plucked one free. He flicked it on in the lift and punched the speakeasy¡¯s code through the first puff of smoke.


    ¡°My very excellent mother just served us nine pizzas.¡± His code was accepted and the lift whirred to life, pulling him upward to the speakeasy. He consciously tried to smoke it slowly and make it last. Remy was supposed to be cool, confident, and not a man who nervously sucked down an entire pack of cigarettes in an hour.


    ¡°Showtime,¡± he murmured.


    There was more smoke than usual when Remy exited into the bar. A complimentary cigar from the doorman tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket, and he made his way to the bar. It was a decidedly different scene that the usual blend down here. Well, not that different, he supposed, just richer. The regular business owner was replaced with an industry tycoon. The city councilor with a Federation imperator. Swanky stuff.


    His hands fought a tremor as he brought the gin to his lips. He¡¯d done bigger heists before. Even more dangerous ones. When he¡¯d first been getting into the game, there was a job in the ruins of the old capitol out east. Simple go here, steal this, bring it back type deal. Their client didn¡¯t mention that the object was nuclear launch codes or that the current owners were part of the Patriot¡¯s Remnant. Fanatical devotees to a long-dead country were terrible targets for anything other than a shoot-first job. You couldn¡¯t bargain with true believers or idiots and these were both. A plasma scar on his ass cheek proved that.


    This job was something else entirely but it felt like the stakes were higher. In other jobs, only his reputation would suffer if things didn¡¯t work out or he called it off. He¡¯d only had to call off a single job over the years and managed to finish every other one, no matter the challenges. Walking away here was not an option. Franklin and Josie were counting on him. Stefanie was counting on him. He could smell the cinnamon.


    ¡°Hey, you okay?¡±


    Remy blinked and was back in the smoky basement of the Freeworker. A warm hand rested on the back of his own and he recognized a pretty face with a plunging neckline.


    ¡°Oh, Claire, sorry, I was, uh, just thinking.¡± Of course, he would run into Claire right off the bat. The only person in the bar who knew his name would be the one to find him. She drank from a low ball glass that turned from purple to orange in sequence and fizzed softly.


    ¡°Must¡¯ve been some thought. I didn¡¯t know you¡¯d be bidding tonight.¡± Claire¡¯s eyebrows were freshly done and rose appraisingly. Just getting an invite to bid didn¡¯t come cheap and she knew it. Anyone who was bidding surely had some story to tell and storytellers needed someone to tell them to. The truth of Franklin simply hacking his own invite to create a forged second didn¡¯t really fit any narrative he wanted to sell. Remy shrugged.


    ¡°I¡¯m a bit of a collector. Liked ¡®em since I was a kid.¡± The best lies weren¡¯t lies at all. ¡°Are you working tonight?¡±


    She shook her glass and took another drink. ¡°Not for the Freeworker.¡± Claire glanced over her shoulder and her perfume washed over Remy through the smoky haze. He was a sucker for a good perfume. ¡°Some men, and a few women, hire me to join them at things like this. They buy me drinks, I smile at their friends.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I didn¡¯t¡­¡± he stopped himself. After the altercation with JD, he hadn¡¯t taken Claire for an escort.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t think I was ¡®that kind of girl¡¯?¡± She put the phrase she had used with JD in quotes.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    This was going about as poorly as he could imagine. He stammered and she touched his hand again.


    ¡°Relax, I¡¯m not ashamed of anything. Should see your face, though. Do you think less of me for it?¡± Her eyes narrowed a touch, challenging him.


    Remy took another drink to buy a second to think. ¡°I¡¯ve known men and women who do much worse things than casual sex for money. I¡¯m not judging. You got good taste for turning down JD, then, the other night.¡± Sex was at least good for everyone involved, usually. It was better than his own line of work in many ways. For Remy, only one party was fucked at the end of the day.


    ¡°I swear to God, you¡¯re like a magnet for these girls, Rem?¡± Josie whispered in his ear and he furiously blocked it out.


    ¡°Sex workers are people same as anyone, and anyone can tell that guy¡¯s an ass. I¡¯d hate to lose a new friend over my side business.¡± She smiled and patted his hand again. ¡°Actually, my date tonight asked me to come talk with you without me even mentioning anything about knowing you.¡±


    That itch for a cigarette came back. Who would know him here? JD or Jack wouldn¡¯t come right up to him like this. It couldn¡¯t be a coincidence. He didn¡¯t believe in coincidences anymore.


    ¡°I¡¯m flattered. Your date say what he wanted with me? I don¡¯t think I know anyone here aside from you.¡±


    ¡°He just said he was an old friend and told me to ask you to come over.¡±


    Remy had a bad feeling about this.


    ¡°Lead the way, then.¡±


    ***


    Bad feelings and ass holes go hand in hand. You usually just end up with a pile of shit. Remy marched dutifully into that pile as he followed Claire back to her client¡¯s table. His stomach sunk. He knew that face.


    ¡°Remy, my friend, it is good to see you again. Our last conversation was cut too short.¡± The Inspector wore the best suit he¡¯d ever seen with a fresh rose in his lapel. A bulge on his left arm showed where his Vasculator rested. Another woman sat on his left with a plunging neckline to match Claire¡¯s and smoky lashes covering bright green eyes.


    ¡°Well, you know how it goes, Fernando.¡± Remy fought away the urge to run back to the lifts immediately. No going back.


    The Inspecter smirked, but didn¡¯t say anything. Smoky Lashes frowned in confusion. So he hadn¡¯t given them his real name. Remy bit his tongue. Had he even given Josie his real name? No time to think about that.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to come by to see what I¡¯ve done with my office. It is, how you say, remodeled since your last visit. A lovely place to bring a lovely lady, is that not so Bianca?¡± Fernando raised a finger and brushed Smoky Lashes - Bianca, he supposed - along her chin.


    ¡°Mmmm.¡± She purred.


    ¡°Truly, words cannot do the view justice.¡± Fernando confirmed. ¡°Are you bidding today, Remy? Or are you waiting to meet with Iroh?¡± Fernando¡¯s question said it plain. Josie called him Iroh the thief at the Water Lily. Remy smiled to disguise his heart beating like a jackhammer. No going back.


    ¡°Bidding. Iroh¡¯s out of town. Not sure he¡¯ll be back. How about you? Bidding or here for the scenery?¡± He looked between Bianca and Claire, who had sat on Fernando¡¯s right. The scenery was undeniably good, though expensive to touch. Looking was always free.


    ¡°Oh, that is a shame. I was dearly hoping to match wits with Iroh once more. Well, I won¡¯t keep you from the fun. Say hello to the beautiful Josephine for me, would you?¡± Fernando dripped knowing condescension. Claire flashed him a confused and apologetic smile. She didn¡¯t know what had happened or what her date said but she could see it plain on Remy¡¯s face. Something had happened and she knew she was part of it. Sweet girl.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to send your regards. Have a good one, Fernando. Claire, Bianca.¡± He raised his drink to the women and went back to his place at the bar. Remy¡¯s mask fell and he tried to breath deep, which proved difficult in the smoky haze.


    He ordered a new gin and flicked on his cigar with a shaking hand. There was no sense in worrying about the Inspector now. Stick to Franklin¡¯s plan and deal with everything else as it came. Josie murmured something in his ear but his heart beat over it. Franklin¡¯s plan would be better than whatever the Inspector was doing. It had to be.


    ¡°Hey, listen! Something¡¯s whirring down here. Sounds like hydraulics.¡± Josie buzzed louder in his ear and jolted Remy out of his reverie. He couldn¡¯t respond at the bar without others overhearing their conversation so he just drummed his fingers along his ear. Probably meant the auction would be starting soon if the hydraulic lifts were starting.


    Sure enough, not a minute later a low chime sounded behind the bar and people started filtering to the back room. Remy took his drink and resumed his easy-going and confident con smile that barely met his eyes.


    Showtime.

 Chapter 28: Showtime

    The Gallery was an inspiring choice for a high-valued auction. Something about hanging out under priceless artworks opened up your wallet and made you feel richer than you were. Expensive drinks didn¡¯t seem so bad and you gained a perspective on capital gains taxation.


    Remy knew probably a third of the room by name - though they didn¡¯t know his - and most of the rest were their assorted hangers-on. The arm candy in the room was impressive. The rich, whether men, women, or neither, seemed to flaunt it with fine clothes and fine company. Franklin entertained a gaggle of devotees young enough to be his great-grandchildren underneath the painting of the big ship rolling in the waves. Remy was the rare single bidder and realized they never even considered if he should have someone with him to blend in. He hoped it wouldn¡¯t be a problem.


    In the middle of the swathes of beautiful people, Remy saw the prize. A glass case rested on a pedestal that rose from the floor, lit on all sides by bright spotlights. Inside the case, a single Vasc card was set on a stand with a card beneath it. A handful of bidders gathered around, examining their potential buy. Remy squeezed around to get a look.


    The Vasc was remarkably unremarkable. A single Vascorp logo was stamped into the side with ¡°PROTOTYPE¡± stenciled below. The serial number was blank and Remy thanked every God he knew that there were no chips or unexpected markings. It matched the dummy one in his pocket in every way. All good so far.


    ¡°What¡¯s it even do?¡± he heard one of the other bidders ask.


    ¡°They don¡¯t say. It¡¯s the last model though and Vascorp got a little weird near the end there. Experimental projects and half-tested thoughts, you know.¡± A woman replied.


    ¡°Got to pay extra for the mystery I suppose.¡±


    Now, that was certainly true. The buyer would be disappointed if their new Vasc didn¡¯t do anything but it wasn¡¯t unheard of for Prototype Vascs to malfunction. Having one that didn¡¯t do anything was better than having one that killed you for trying to use it. He didn¡¯t expect a buyer would try it out without investigating it. People with this kind of money to blow on an illicit, unregistered Vasc weren¡¯t the grunts who had to use the Vascs. Let some other poor sap try it and see if it killed him. If not, great. If so, funeral flowers were cheap.


    Remy stared at the stand and tried to transfix everything about the case in his mind. There wouldn¡¯t be a second chance at this one and he¡¯d probably find himself bleeding out in an alley if anything went wrong. Fuck, those lights were hot. Satisfied that he knew the glass case as well as he could, he backed away and leaned against the wall near the splatter painting and the sad clowns. Franklin was directly across from him and in the corner of his eye he saw Fernando and Claire examining a painting of stars.


    They only had a moment to act when Josie cut the power. Franklin would Displace the Prototype into his suit¡¯s slot, Remy would Displace the dummy from his pocket to the case. To everyone watching, it would look identical t the original. No one would be any wiser.


    Remy chewed on the end of his cigar and puffed it slowly, trying to keep his heart under control. Josie would be doing the same. All three of them had a critical part of the job but Josie¡¯s started it all. He knew she was listening to he and Franklin¡¯s comm units, ready to move when she heard the right words. Remy cracked his fingers one at a time at his side. His anxiety only rose when the fattest man he¡¯d ever seen entered the room.


    The auctioneer had arrived and the real game was about to begin.


    ***


    The bidding started at enough credits that Remy could live comfortably for over a year. It wouldn¡¯t be a lavish lifestyle but he¡¯d live. Within a few bids, it progressed into a lavish lifestyle and then into the uncomfortably lavish lifestyle levels.


    Remy focused on breathing and being small along the side of the room. He couldn¡¯t credibly bid anymore without drawing more attention than he¡¯d like. His fingers twitched. Franklin would make the sign any moment now and he¡¯d have to be ready.


    ¡°Come on, folks, this is fresh from the ruins of Vascorp North! Authentic prototype from the last generation of Vasculators, who knows what they were working on up there. Do I hear half a million? Half a million? Yes, from the man with the rose. Do I hear 600,000?¡± The auctioneer huffed and puffed like a furnace bellows, face reddening and he moved about the room generating business.


    ¡°Seven and a half!¡± Franklin¡¯s tiny voice amplified through his suit¡¯s modifiers. That was the sign. Sweat welled in his palms and his heart threatened to thump out of his chest. Just a little more, then he could go celebrate. He¡¯d be out of this town, leaving behind Happy Jack, the Inspector, JD, and about a half-dozen other people he could happily leave behind.


    Josie, though. What was he going to do about Josie? The familiar little ball of guilt, doubt, and acid-reflux formed in his chest. He¡¯d have to worry about that later. Wouldn¡¯t even be a question to worry about if the job didn¡¯t go off without a hitch.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Go.¡± Josie whispered into his ear. Within the Gallery, the lights flickered and then failed with an audible voomp. There was something about sudden and surprising darkness that causes grown adults to lose their fucking mind. Some screamed, some gasped, and Remy heard more than a few indignant ¡°I say, what¡¯s going on here?¡± as if there was an engineer next to them who could simply explain the matter. Humans in the dark were a stupid bunch.


    Which was entirely the point. Remy breathed deep and focused on the Displacer lodged into his Vasc unit. Tingles shot down his arm like he was having a heart attack and he imagined the dummy Vasc in his pocket. He traced its contours in his mind, knew its every nook and cranny, and memorized its markings. Remy could feel it weighing in his pocket and in his mind. It was as real there as it was in his jacket.


    Using an intensive Vasc had a funny effect on time. Sometimes, it felt like he could take naps between his heart beats and other times it was inexplicably the following morning and he was face-down in a pile of his own puke. Don¡¯t fuck with circulatory systems was apparently the lesson that he¡¯d never learned.


    The Displacer had the former effect on Remy. He could feel blood crawling through his veins and outside noise was muffled and slow, like Remy had his head stuck underwater. Even so, he knew he had to go quickly.


    He gripped the dummy Vasc in his mind and simultaneously rebuilt the case in the center of the room. It¡¯s contours formed and he sculpted the setting, complete with the little note of information, the thin layer of purple silk, the slight bump where it bunched under the left edge of the prototype. Everything except the prototype itself an exact replica of the glass case in the center of the Gallery.


    Remy exhaled and merged the two. He placed the dummy Vasc from his pocket onto the pedestal and willed it into existed. It made his blood hurt. Remy never knew how to describe how he felt after the Beltrider the first time he¡¯d used a Displacer but Franklin knew the feeling. It was like your blood didn¡¯t like you anymore and tried to get out of its veins by any means necessary. It burned and ached like a festering tooth.


    But it was done. The Vasc was firmly enshrined in the case and he could feel its weight disappear from his pocket. Remy released his hold on the Displacer and was thankful he¡¯d been leaning against the wall or he would¡¯ve fallen flat on his face. He couldn¡¯t decide if he wanted to drink, smoke, or puke. Later, he¡¯d probably do all three.


    A generator whirred to life beneath his feet and the lights flickered back on. Remy couldn¡¯t help staring at the case. This could be pretty awkward if something went wrong. The Vasc was out of his pocket but he might¡¯ve missed the case and left it somewhere else. He¡¯d never tried it in the dark before. No one had screamed in pain so he hadn¡¯t accidentally lodged it in someone¡¯s chest which was a good sign.


    He sighed in relief as he saw the Vasc resting in the case just as he¡¯d imagined it. The other one was missing so Franklin must¡¯ve done his part. Remy resisted the urge to look at him. In the days to come, they¡¯d undoubtedly scour any recordings of the auction and he¡¯d prefer to keep as much distance between co-conspirators as possible. Instead, he glanced at the lights and tried to look confused, which, fortunately, looked pretty similar to his nausea.


    Auctioneer dabbed his forehead with a comically large handkerchief and stammered over the low conversation.


    ¡°Alright, alright, now, settle down. Just a little technical issue, but nothing to worry about. Where were we? Ah yes, 750,000 to the incomparable Franklin Mendez. Do I hear eight?¡± He was back in his element and walked through the crowd.


    Low conversations continued and waiters came quickly with fresh drinks to keep the bourgeoisie drunk and happy so they couldn¡¯t complain about the lapse in lighting. A girl approached Remy with a tray of gin pluses and he gladly took one off her hands. It was the best damn drink he¡¯d ever had, even as it sat sickly in his stomach.


    Mister auctioneer managed to get a few more bids and the price jumped to over a million credits, at which point Franklin was supposed to tsk and withdraw from bidding. He mouthed something Remy didn¡¯t catch in his implant but none of his retinue responded. Remy sipped at his gin plus and tried to play off his exhaustion as disgust at the auction. He had no idea if it worked but he could barely stand let alone fake enthusiasm.


    ¡°Remy, look at Franklin. Something¡¯s wrong.¡± Josie urged him. ¡°I¡¯m already out, see you on the outside.¡±


    Remy glanced to Franklin and knew something was indeed very wrong. A mostly paralyzed man in a robotic suit doesn¡¯t give away much but Remy knew in his eyes that their plan had gone awry. They had to get out. There was no way to talk while at the Freeworker. Get out, debrief, and figure out something else.


    Remy coughed into his elbow and moved to the door. No one liked standing in the way of someone coughing through a crowd so he reached the lift easily. As the doors closed, he saw Franklin and his gaggle move through the crowd as well.


    ¡°Your place in thirty.¡± He murmured to himself, hoping Franklin would hear it in her own implant.


    ¡°What?¡± Josie asked.


    ¡°For FM, we¡¯ll go there in thirty.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll meet you the - hey, let go of me!¡± Josie screamed, the sound popping over his ear piece.


    ¡°Josie?¡± Remy mashed the buttons in the lift. Could it go any fucking slower? ¡°What¡¯s happening? Josie!¡±


    She didn¡¯t answer but he could hear another indistinct yell followed by a thump and a crackle as her comm unit broke. Someone must¡¯ve hit her or she had fallen in a very precise way. The lift door opened and Remy sprinted past a tipsy couple hanging on each other and through the lobby. He didn¡¯t stop for his coat and dashed out into the falling snow.


    ¡°Josie?¡± he called. No one answered. He ran down the block and skidded around the corner toward the side entrance Claire had showed him. His heart raced and he completely forgot his exhaustion. His body was fueled by a swirling cocktail of liquor, adrenaline, and horror. Josie had to be okay.


    He reached the rear entrance with no sign of Josie. Snow was falling fast and multiple sets of footsteps were rapidly covered. A section of the sidewalk near the entrance was brushed away, betraying a scuffle. Remy¡¯s heart chilled and his lip quivered when he saw it.


    Remy knelt down and lifted the single red rose.


    ¡°Josie.¡± He whispered.

 Chapter 29: A Bloody Rose

    Remy threatened, yelled, and assaulted his way to the Inspector¡¯s penthouse. He was sure there must be a half-dozen Redcaps on their way right now but Remy didn¡¯t care. The bastard had taken Josie and he was going to pay. He pounded on the door. There was no way he¡¯d be able to break it down. He¡¯d seen Josie break in last time with retinal and finger print scanners to unlock thick steel bars.


    ¡°Open up!¡± he yelled. Remy didn¡¯t have a plan if the door did open. Try to beat the shit out of the guy, he guessed. His fear, anger, and sheer exhaustion fogged his mind and muddled his thoughts. No plan. Just action. He didn¡¯t know where Josie was, and this was the only place he knew the Inspector could be.


    He pounded on the door again and checked his Vasc. Could he try to displace part of the door? Remy¡¯s blood ached at the thought. No, that¡¯d be the fastest way to end up on his ass, drooling as the Redcaps showed up to drag him away. His anger was desperate. Frantic. Manic.


    The door cracked and Remy clenched his fist imagining burying it in Fernando¡¯s smug and perfectly tan face. He¡¯d likely die here if the Inspector wanted to fight. It was Bianca who opened the door, not the Inspector. Remy loosened his fist when he saw the look on her face.


    Bianca was pale and her perfectly smoky eyes dripped where tears smeared her efforts. She still wore her evening dress from the auction and her hands trembled. She looked like she might cry again right then and there.


    ¡°He said you¡¯d come.¡± She handed him a piece of paper and stepped back into the room.


    ¡°Where is he?¡± Remy stepped past her and looked down the hallway and into the first room on the right. He let anger drive him, pulling him through the Vasc exhaustion.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She whispered. ¡°He just gave me that and told me to wait.¡±


    She didn¡¯t move from the door and looked out eagerly, as if she wanted nothing more than to run down the hallway, go home, and cry. Remy couldn¡¯t blame her, he wanted to do the same.


    He unfolded the letter to read it. Of course, the Inspector wrote in a ridiculous flowing script. ¡°Iroh, your trick was nice but not enough, I¡¯m afraid. This can go two ways. One, you help me. Two, you don¡¯t. I hope you do. I¡¯m sure the lovely Josephine wishes you would, as well. If you¡¯d like to help me, I have a small getaway in the outlands. The coordinates are below. Find me there and we can talk. If not, well, that is your choice as well and I will have no hard feelings. May your wines ever flow, F.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Remy almost balled it up to throw across the room when he noticed a smaller post script at the bottom.


    ¡°P.S. that cherry gum is rather intoxicating, no? I will be here three days, Remy.¡±


    So his choice was to help the Inspector, or something bad would happen to Josie. Remy thought about everything bad that he wanted to do to Fernando and his fucking slicked back hair. A blanket of broken glass would be too kind if Josie was hurt. He wedged the note in his pocket and moved to leave. It¡¯d take a few hours to get to the Inspector¡¯s getaway and without a short rest, he¡¯d never make it.


    ¡°He told me that you had to see the office before you left.¡± Bianca¡¯s voice quivered and she nodded down the hall. Remy remembered that office. The smell of Josie¡¯s hair and sweat intermingled with busted glass and the pot roast of a family dinner interrupted.


    ¡°Why?¡± He had to get home, shower, sleep before his blood ached any worse, go see Franklin and then be off before the sun came up. Visiting a remodeled office was pretty low on his priority list.


    ¡°Just¡­he just said to tell you.¡± Bianca¡¯s voice broke and so did her resolve. She clutched her purse and a pair of tiny black stilettos and shuffled out the door as quickly as she could without running. Remy glanced back at the office and sighed. He walked to the office and stopped dead in his tracks.


    ¡°You son of a bitch.¡± Remy spat on the ground.


    It smelled like blood, and sweat, and Remy knew why Bianca ran. The office was laid out as it had been before his first visit but now there was a body strapped to the top of the desk. Slowly, he approached Claire.


    Claire¡¯s wrists and ankles were bound to the desk with leather straps. She also wore the evening dress from the auction before but partially dried blood caked her throat where it had been slit. On her left breast, above her dress, a crude rose was carved in her flesh.


    He brushed her hair back behind her ears and closed her eyes. He could still smell her perfume, even over the sweat and blood. Claire deserved better. Everyone deserved better, of course, but she¡¯d done nothing wrong other than take a night with a guy who badly needed a new hole in his head. That familiar ball of guilt welled in his stomach. If he hadn¡¯t been on the same job as the Inspector, she would¡¯ve just ended the night confused about a strange man. If Remy had never met her by chance or befriended her, she would never have been asked to bring him to Fernando¡¯s table. She would still be alive.


    Now, she was dead on her back in a cold and strange loft. Remy didn¡¯t know if she had family. What a horrible thing to say to a mother. I¡¯m sorry, your daughter was found dead in a wealthy man¡¯s apartment. He¡¯s important though and has connections so we won¡¯t be prosecuting him. Have a pleasant day, ma¡¯am.


    Remy noticed a slip of paper in her left hand and he pried her fingers apart to get at it. Fernando¡¯s flowing script revealed itself again.


    ¡°Three days, Remy.¡±

 Chapter 30: Beyond the Ghostfence

    Remy pushed his engines as hard as they¡¯d go over the dusty hills north of New Madison as the sun cracked over the horizon. Outlander communities clung to brown snaking rivers and rusted out shells of old cities. He¡¯d heard a few bullets ricochet off the outer edge of his speeder and fought the urge to fire back. Outlanders had to live out here, that was punishment enough.


    He¡¯d hardly slept despite his exhaustion. Stefanie left three messages on his comm unit and he couldn¡¯t bear talking to her now. Whatever he once thought about being lost in a tumble of cinnamon hair and legs without end, he couldn¡¯t think about that with Josie in the Inspector¡¯s clutches.


    He had snatched two nutrient bars with sludge-strength coffee and he was out the door. Franklin hadn¡¯t slept either. He¡¯d told him about the auction and what went wrong. It seems someone else had the same idea as they did with the Displacers and struck first when the lights went out. Remy knew that it had been Fernando, but kept that to himself. He promised to come visit when he came back. He didn¡¯t say from where.


    The coffee was gone before the green glow of the Ghostfence faded in his rear view mirror and he tried to sleep as the autopilot engaged. It was no use. His stomach churned from the night before. A vile swirl of Displacement hangover, bad coffee, and guilt. Josie taken. Claire murdered. That bloody, carved rose on her breast. Just to send him a message. The worst part was that he didn¡¯t even know what that message was. Not to interfere in future jobs? Sure thing. Money? No problem, Remy¡¯d rob a bank if he had to. He¡¯d rob a dozen banks. He just wanted to get Josie and go home. Make a new home somewhere else. Start a new life. He didn¡¯t know if that new life was with Stefanie or Josie but he knew it had to be new.


    The middle parts of North America outside the ghostfences were a cruel, impoverished, and hopeless places. Pretty but unprosperous before the war, they couldn¡¯t afford even rudimentary defenses against the bombs and War-Vascs. Only cities could afford the ghostfences. Most cities that managed to survive in some way didn¡¯t really bother with the outlands anymore. In the wild, militias armed with old-style rifles and the cheapest Vascs fought each other for scraps of land and ended up ruining it all. He¡¯d flown over the outlands before, of course, but there wasn¡¯t much to see. He couldn¡¯t imagine the Inspector spending time out here. Those suits would be ruined by the dirt and grime in a day flat.


    The sun was fully over the horizon when he reached Fernando¡¯s getaway. He settled the speeder down in an open field and double checked his Vasc. He¡¯d loaded an upgraded Volt from Josie¡¯s stock but had no idea if he could even use it. His blood still ached from the Displacer. An old-style hand gun rested in a holster under his duster. Might as well come with a gun for a gun fight.


    It was more of a shack than a getaway and not remotely the kind of place that he expected to find the Inspector. He supposed that was the point. A sleek blue speeder sat under a scraggly oak tree and smoke piped from a metal chimney. It was short, just one story with walls made of timber that was likely cut nearby. Remy trudged through a snow drift to the front door.


    Fernando opened it with a wolfish smile and motioned him inside. It smelled like frying butter and bubbling coffee.


    ¡°Ah, you made good time, Remy. You are in time for my famous eggs benedict. My grandmother¡¯s recipe. It is, truly, a treat to make and a treat to share.¡± A rush of warm air, toasted bread, burning wood, and bacon struck Remy and invited him in as much as Fernando¡¯s words. He wore a navy sweater with his sleeves rolled back like he was your neighbor inviting you in for a cold beer. Calling him a wolf in sheep¡¯s clothing would be unkind to wolves.


    ¡°Where is she?¡± Remy growled. Fernando sighed loudly and shook his head.


    ¡°Straight to business. You¡¯ll work yourself to death, Remy. She is here and is not hurt. How could I hurt something as beautiful as dear Josephine? Come, eat something and we¡¯ll talk, yes?¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.It took all of Remy¡¯s restraint to follow him inside without pulling out his gun and giving Fernando some speed holes. Once inside, he was glad he resisted. Josie sat at a table in the corner, her left wrist restrained and two tiny drones buzzed around her head.


    ¡°Josie!¡± He rushed over to her and was met with a buzzing drone in his own face.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay, Rem.¡± She smiled wearily. Her ear was swollen where Fernando had struck her in the alley but otherwise she looked to be in good shape. A drone buzzed around Remy¡¯s head and whirred back to Josie.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± he asked Fernando. The Inspector returned to the stove and stirred his hollandaise sauce.


    ¡°Hmmm? Oh, that¡¯s my insurance. They¡¯re attached to an implant of my own invention. If I say the magic words, the drones shoot. If my heart should stop, they shoot. And so on. It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t trust you, Remy, I do, but, well, we¡¯ve had some differences in the past and I¡¯d prefer to not worry about you altering our deal. I hope you understand.¡±


    Loud and clear. Shoot him and they shoot her. A Mud-duck Standoff.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Remy asked. He was tired, irritable, and facing the man who took his girlfriend by force in a dark alley. The man who was her ex and also murdered another girl in cold blood just to send a message to Remy.


    Fernando sagged with an melodramatic sigh. ¡°All work with you types. Okay, sit, and at least have some bacon for your trouble.¡±


    Remy sat. There wasn¡¯t much arguing with a man who held all the chips. Fernando came over and dropped two pieces of toast and a few strips of thick-cut bacon.


    ¡°I slaughtered them myself last summer. Butchering an animal yourself is truly a magical thing. You feel your meat and know how special it is, no? There¡¯s just a better connection to your soul that way.¡±


    Remy took a bite out of duty. Fucking psychopath talking about butchering meat a day after a cold-blooded murder. Remy would do anything to get Josie out of there. He had to admit it was pretty good bacon though. His stomach rumbled and betrayed his hunger. Fernando returned to the stove and talked over his shoulder.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be blunt because you are a blunt man. I need you to kill someone, well, two someones, for me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a killer.¡± He said between bites. It was true. He had killed before, but there was almost always a better way to resolve a problem and dead people couldn¡¯t owe you a favor.


    ¡°Oh, no, Remy. I¡¯m afraid you misunderstand me. This isn¡¯t a request. These drones will also shoot if this is not done. The lovely Josephine does not deserve such a fate for the lives of these other people, no? I assure you, each person has done more than enough to warrant a death sentence.¡± Fernando returned to the table with a plate of Eggs Benedict for Josie and himself and sat down to eat. She picked at hers reluctantly but Fernando dug in with relish. ¡°I have two envelopes on the table, over there. Finish your toast, take the envelopes, and go back home. If you do it, come back and we¡¯ll drink the finest champagne in my stock. If you do not come back, we¡¯ll, c¡¯est la vie.¡±


    Josie stared at her eggs and tried not to react. Of course, she itched to tell him not to do it. Two lives weren¡¯t worth hers, she¡¯d say. That he was a better person than that and couldn¡¯t live with himself if he did. But she was wrong. Remy wasn¡¯t a better person than anyone. He didn¡¯t know how many lives Josie¡¯s was worth to him, but in that moment he knew that number was at least two. He didn¡¯t even swallow before replying.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    Fernando grinned widely.


    ¡°See, Remy, we can understand each other, I think. Come back in a few days. Saturday will be too late, you understand.¡±


    Remy understood. By next Saturday, he¡¯d come back to this shack and find Josie on the kitchen table, a single rose on her breast.


    ¡°I better get on my way then.¡± He stood and leaned down to give Josie a kiss. Her lip was stiff and her eyes glistened. Her relief was palpable. How could she have ever doubted what he would do? Josie¡¯s lips were cracked from the dry shack air but the kiss was sweeter than any he could remember.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back for you.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± She smiled weakly, clearly unsure what to think. He didn¡¯t know either.


    Remy retrieved the envelopes from the stand near the entrance and pulled up his collar against the cold December winds. Fernando waved to him like an idiot from clearing away the dishes in the kitchen and Josie just smiled.


    He was halfway back to New Madison when he opened the first envelope. The past day had given Remy plenty of reasons to be sick to his stomach but this put him over the edge. He tossed the open envelop onto the passenger¡¯s seat and kicked at the dash.


    ¡°Fuck.¡±


    Papers spilled out of the envelope showing full color pictures of a familiar red-haired woman, with legs longer than anyone had a right to. Remy could swear he smelled cinnamon right then.

 Chapter 31: Snuffing the Candle

    The Inspector¡¯s unexpected envelopes forced Remy to clarify a few things in his life really fucking quick.


    He returned to New Madison, went straight to the School House and drank enough gin to kill a wild beast. Luis kept refilling them and Remy didn¡¯t even care that Jack¡¯s boys sat across the bar with their eyes burning holes through his chest. Fuck Happy Jack and this entire rotten city.


    He woke up the next morning in his bed and sobbed. Josie was everywhere. Strands of her hair clung to his two-day stubble. A wadded up piece of cherry gum stuck on her nightstand and he could smell it every time the fan shifted directions. A styrofoam box of takeout in the fridge labeled with her sloppy writing ¡°Josie¡¯s - don¡¯t eat me, Remy :).¡± Fantasies of cinnamon hair and passionate escape couldn¡¯t compete with what was real. This was real. Josie was real and she was dead if he didn¡¯t do something about it.


    Remy loaded up one of Josie¡¯s Barrier Vascs and ate Josie¡¯s marked leftovers. They¡¯d go get new stuff when she came home. Who wants to return home and only find leftovers, anyway? After breakfast, he loaded his hand gun and a few spare Vascs into his duster and walked toward Stefanie¡¯s. He¡¯d always felt bad news was like a bandage. If you tear it off quick or slow, it¡¯s still going to hurt so you might as well get to it. He figured it wasn¡¯t ever going to get any easier. Besides, if the envelop told the truth about Stefanie, whatever fantasy was never going to happen anyway. He¡¯d have to ask her. He had to know before he put a bullet in her.


    She¡¯d left him two new messages since he left for the Outlands begging him to meet with an update after the auction. The news was all abuzz over the prototype being a dud and since she hadn¡¯t heard from Remy, she had assumed the worst. He simply typed back that morning. ¡°Your place, ten a.m.¡± He was always short in text responses so he hoped it wouldn¡¯t be suspicious. Her response of a winky-face seemed to confirm that she didn¡¯t suspect anything.


    Stefanie opened the door to her apartment in Remy¡¯s worst nightmare. She wore black leggings and a puffy gray sweater with a scarf. Of course, her hair was perfect and her make-up done up as if she was hitting the town. She welcomed him in but he kept his jacket and hat.


    ¡°You¡¯re lucky school got out on Friday, otherwise I wouldn¡¯t have been here.¡± She grabbed his hand and brought him over to the kitchen island where she had two mugs of cocoa with, what else, a cinnamon stick for a stirrer. He flashed back to the last time he was in this apartment. A dress on the floor. Broken zippers. Her hair stuck on his lips and the way her silhouette looked as she hopped out of bed to grab a drink of water. Cinnamon everywhere.


    Remy couldn¡¯t do it. How could he? Here she was, sweet, innocent and an absolute smoke show. Any guy would be lucky to catch her eye even for a moment and he¡¯d shared far more than that. She wrecked him. It took a moment to register that she was still talking.


    ¡°Remy? You okay?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I, um, was just enjoying the smell.¡± He wanted to keep enjoying the smell. Keep enjoying her, and just get out of town. It would be so easy. The Inspector had let him go. His stuff that mattered could fit into a speeder and he could be soaring over the western hills by sunset with Stefanie at his side. That would be something.


    ¡°You just seem distracted. Is it about the job?¡±


    The job. He¡¯d forgotten about that. Would she still run away with him if he didn¡¯t have the prototype? They didn¡¯t need the prototype. Who knew what it could do. Why risk it? Far easier to just start a new life and live more simply for a time. People did it all the time, why not them?


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t get it. My team had a plan but we were beat by someone else.¡± As always, honesty was the easiest to remember and probably the best way out. They had a good plan, it just was beat by a better one. Stefanie frowned.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand. Who did get it? Your team? I thought you worked alone.¡±


    She just didn¡¯t understand how jobs like these worked and that was okay. She was a teacher, not a criminal. He shook his head. Didn¡¯t he just read something to the contrary? He couldn¡¯t remember. It didn''t matter.


    ¡°Jobs like these need teams. I had people I trusted helping and we almost did it. That¡¯s how these things work, sometimes, it just goes sideways.¡± If all they needed was money, that was easy. Drugs and Vascs sold well everywhere and they wasn¡¯t hard to find. They could have enough for lunar tickets within the month if he worked hard.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Stefanie stood up and stomped over the window. ¡°People you trust, like your ex? ¡®Josie¡¯? I¡¯ve seen you around with her, Remy, and how do I know you aren¡¯t going around behind my back.¡±


    Her words stung like a thousand tiny little barbs. He could never go around behind her back. Stefanie was intoxicating, and captivating, taking him in entirely and devouring him. But something held back. What did she say? Josie? Smacks of cherry gum and engine grease clogged his senses. He remembered Josie.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be made a fool of, Remy. Not if we¡¯re to start a life together.¡± She continued to hammer away at him but the words sloughed off like water. He remembered Josie and remembered why he had come. She had a lot to answer for. Stefanie¡¯s eyes grew as wide as dinner plates when Remy leveled his hand gun to her head. He remembered what he had read.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Remy asked. Stefanie shook her head and frowned.


    ¡°What do you mean ¡¯Who am I?¡¯¡± Her voice had the perfect quiver. Remy smelled cinnamon again and his gun wavered. What was he doing? He couldn¡¯t shoot Stefanie. No, this was all some filthy trick by the Inspector. The Inspector who had Josie locked up. The sights settled back squarely on Stefanie.


    ¡°Do you work for Vascorp?¡± The Inspector¡¯s notes were clear. They couldn¡¯t be true but he didn¡¯t know what he would do if she wasn¡¯t. Shooting someone who¡¯d lied to him like this was one thing but shooting a woman whose only crime was to open her purse and her bed to the wrong man was pretty fucking different. She scrunched her face.


    ¡°Vascorp? No, of course not. I¡¯m a teacher, Remy, you know that. Put that down, you¡¯re scaring me.¡± Cinnamon again and his arm nearly fell without a second thought. She had the strangest effect on him. Stefanie had a sort of animal magnetism, pulling him in without effort or thought. How could someone like Stefanie be what the Inspector claimed?


    It was like a cloud lifted from his brain. Animal magnetism. Clever.


    ¡°Take out your Vascs. Do it, now!¡± Remy gritted his teeth and scowled down the barrel. A Pheromone. He¡¯d been taken by a girl far to the west who used a Pheromone once. Nothing as strong as this, though. He should¡¯ve seen it coming.


    Stefanie hesitated. Remy fired a round into the wall over her shoulder spraying concrete down.


    ¡°Vascs. Out now.¡±


    Gunfire would certainly bring the Redcaps over soon enough, so he needed to resolve his Stefanie problem quickly. He could almost see her thoughts progress through her options. Lie again, beg, double-down on the Pheromone and flirt with him. She settled on smug braggadocio.


    ¡°Alright, here. Don¡¯t shoot. Just taking it out.¡± Stefanie slid her sweater up her arm and pressed downward on her wrist. It clicked and Stefanie pulled a thin card from the opening. She tossed it to Remy¡¯s feet. A telltale pink heart with three arrows through it covered the outside. Pheromone. He didn¡¯t know a third edition had even been made.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen an internal unit before. Do all teachers get it or just ones like you?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no one like me.¡±


    Well, at least that was the truth. The scent of cinnamon lingered but he could see through it when he knew what to look for. Thin lines ran along the edges of Stefanie¡¯s eyes, and her hair had lost some of its luster. Remy didn¡¯t know if that was the Pheromone or just him taking a good hard look for the first time without wanting something more.


    ¡°You are Vascorp, then.¡±


    ¡°Recovery & Engineering.¡± She confirmed. Stefanie didn¡¯t even have the good grace to blush or look ashamed as she was caught in her lie. She said it like she was ordering a cocktail.


    ¡°Why me? Know why someone would want you dead?¡±


    Stefanie shrugged and sat in a nearby chair. So she was going for the nonchalance route. ¡°You had a reputation and it was preferable to hire someone than risk getting caught myself. You did a great job, by the way. I¡¯d been looking for those papers for over a year when you came along. You were willing to get your hands dirty in ways I could never have done.¡±


    Being used was Remy¡¯s least favorite situation. Sure, deals went bad, sometimes you got shocked with 50,000 volts and put into a hospital, but a betrayal was more personal. It weaseled its way into you, nuzzling up to your brain and heart and then ripping away without warning. Stefanie used Remy like she used a paper towel. Disposable.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t get the Prototype. Your bosses must¡¯ve been disappointed.¡±


    Stefanie laughed, actually laughed.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t my only plan, Remy. One of my other hires brought it to me straight-away after the auction. It¡¯s verified and on it¡¯s way back to a Vascorp black site now.¡±


    ¡°Let me guess, tan guy with a bad accent and a nice suit?¡±


    ¡°Do you know each other?¡± Stefanie cocked her head to the side.


    ¡°Professional courtesy, I suppose.¡± He could¡¯ve laughed at the irony at another time. Stefanie sensed the lull and rose.


    ¡°Stop, don¡¯t come closer.¡±


    She ignored him and stepped forward. Her steps were slow and deliberate, each one swaying her hips and her eyes flashed that familiar smolder, almost funny now without the Pheromone.


    Stefanie leaned her forehead up to the end of his barrel and locked eyes with him. Remy could feel her pressure on his gun and didn¡¯t blink away from her.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll shoot me, Remy. I think there¡¯s still hope for that life out there. Come with me.¡± Not all of her charms were in the Pheromone. She could sound sweet, and convincing. The type of girl you wanted to hold hands with and drink wine under the stars somewhere. Someone, maybe. Not Remy.


    ¡°Not with you.¡±


    Then he fired.


    The result was a tremendous mess and Remy didn¡¯t even bother trying to clean up. The Redcaps could deal with her. Remy replaced his gun inside his duster and paused only long enough to cut away the internal Vasculator on her left wrist and place it in a plastic bag.


    Remy exited through the fire escape as he heard sirens in the distance.

 Chapter 32: Hard Goodbyes

    He¡¯d never seen Jack happier than when he delivered the prototype internal Vasculator, albeit with a bit of blood and flesh still on the margins. Remy¡¯s price was low. He just wanted the fucking thing gone and this solved a couple problems at once.


    ¡°I know who messed with your job on Saturday and where you can find him. That¡¯s free. I need explosives. Good ones that¡¯ll fit into a shoe box.¡±


    Jack had Stefanie¡¯s hand open in front of him on his desk, looking in the Vasculator hatch like a kid peeking at a skins-only holo. He looked to Remy with a smile.


    ¡°Not killing anyone I know, are you?¡±


    ¡°No one friends of yours, at least. Fair swap? You get the tech and info on the guy who fucked your plan, and I get a few minutes in your armory.¡±


    He made a show of considering the deal, but Remy knew Jack was sold. Franklin had mentioned the tech in passing before, but never said Vascorp had managed to produce any internal Vasculators. The thought sent shivers up Remy¡¯s spine. Jack extended his hand and Remy took it. Making deals with Happy Jack. What a change a few months could bring.


    ¡°I accept your proposal. Send me that information on the man whenever your¡­affairs¡­are in order? Tanner, show Mr. St. Claire here to the good stuff and let him have his pick. Our boy¡¯s earned it!¡±


    ¡°Bless your heart, Jack.¡±


    Jack roared in laughter and Tanner led Remy from the room. Remy hoped it was the last time he¡¯d seen it.


    ***


    Murder in the flicks happened on dark and dreary nights or at the end of a secluded alleyway. No one was murdered in broad daylight, and certainly no one other than young socialites were murdered in their penthouses. Remy didn¡¯t have any choice but to break with tradition and kill an old man in broad daylight.


    He walked from his apartment to Revolution Plaza carrying a package he wasn¡¯t proud of. If it was for anyone but Josie, he¡¯d likely have walked away. He still hadn¡¯t worked through what his feelings were but they were there, and they were strong. What was one business associate for the one who shares your toothpaste, laughs, and bedroom? Nothing.


    Doorman Snooty was waiting outside and recognized Remy as he approached.


    ¡°Good day, sir. Will you be visiting Mr. Mendez this afternoon?¡± Damn, he must¡¯ve got quite the tongue lashing after his behavior last time. Remy just wished it had been someone he didn¡¯t recognize. Not that it would matter. The speeder was packed and he¡¯d be out before the the fires were out. Getting in and out of New Madison wasn¡¯t that hard with the right friends and Happy Jack was about as close to a friend as he had in the city, at this point.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m heading up for a drink now. I brought him a gift though, and I would be grateful if you would take it up to him after I leave. I¡¯d rather not have him make a fuss over it while I¡¯m there, you know?¡± A lie that malicious shouldn¡¯t have come so easily. Snooty took the box under his arm and opened the door for Remy.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Absolutely, sir. I¡¯ll watch for your departure and bring it up myself. He¡¯ll be terribly surprised, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    Remy entered an open lift and pressed the button for Franklin¡¯s floor. ¡°Yeah, I think he will be.¡±


    It was the most agonizing lift ride of his life, bar the one where he thought the Inspector had Josie in his tower. The fact that one had been worse told him all he needed to know about what he needed to do. The lift opened and Remy rapped his knuckles on the door. As always, Franklin opened the door himself and pointed Remy to the overlook while he tottered off to the bar to whip up a batch of strawberry or peach margaritas. The man¡¯s mech suit must run off the stuff.


    He turned away to retrieve ice and tequila, and Remy knelt to tie his boot at the entrance to the overlook. Quickly, he slipped a small black transponder from his pocket and stuck it on the back side of a potted plant to the left of the doorway. It was an ugly plant for an ugly job.


    Remy sat and stared out onto another perfect day as Franklin brought over the pitcher of blended margaritas. Strawberry, as it turned out.


    ¡°Well, Remy, you look like hell and I¡¯m the one talking through a robot.¡± It would be funny if it wasn¡¯t true.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a rough few days.¡± He replied honestly. ¡°Josie didn¡¯t make it out of the Freeworker.¡± True enough, from a certain point of view.


    Franklin could be and do many things but empathy from a paralyzed man in a mech suit is a tough trick to pull off. He almost managed it. Almost. He topped off his margarita and sat across from Remy.


    ¡°I suspected as much when you didn¡¯t stay to chat afterward. I am sorry that the plan didn¡¯t work, by the way. I know how much she meant to you and how it feels to lose someone due to our own failures.¡±


    ¡°Do you?¡± He snapped off harsher than he¡¯d intended. It shouldn¡¯t bother him anyway. The box would be up here in a few minutes and he¡¯d have Josie back. A black pit welled in his stomach. If only Georgia had been faster, he wouldn¡¯t even be here now.


    ¡°Son, I¡¯ve lost two wives and a husband in my years and they were all on the job. Do you think I wouldn¡¯t have done anything I could to keep them with me? Sometimes, there¡¯s nothing we can do. Vascorp gave me a life, a good life, but it took more than that over the years.¡±


    Vascorp. The word stank like old sewage. Without them, he wouldn¡¯t be in this mess. Stefanie would be an actual middle-school teacher and still alive and Josie wouldn¡¯t be in a cabin hours to the north. She¡¯d still be running O¡¯Malley Pawn, hustling Vascs on the side. Maybe she¡¯d have a decent boyfriend for once. Remy¡¯d be¡­well, Remy¡¯d still be Remy but there might be less hurt in world on account of him.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to be rude. It¡¯s just¡­it¡¯s just hard right now.¡± Remy drank his margarita fast enough to chill his brain. The pain was good. He¡¯d felt too numb most of the day. Just a few minutes more.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing. The first one is the hardest. I¡¯m glad you came to see me though.¡±


    ¡°Me too.¡±


    They chatted through a margarita and then another one. The sun was growing low on the horizon when Remy staggered to his feet and decided to leave. His heart started to race and his palms sweat terribly throughout the entirety of saying goodbye. Franklin made him promise to come back for brunch this weekend as it was no good to spend so much time alone after losing someone so close. He promised.


    The lift down was nearly as agonizing as the lift up and he could barely choke out an acknowledgment to Snooty, who still stood with the package in the lobby.


    ¡°Nice to see you again, sir. I¡¯ll bring this right up to Mr. Mendez, yes?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, thanks.¡± Remy managed to say. He practically burst through the doors and couldn¡¯t believe how refreshing the frigid December air felt. Breathes came in deep puffs and he struggled to slow them to normal as he walked away. This was about to become a very bad place to stand.


    Remy paused two blocks away where he still had an angle on Franklin¡¯s penthouse. It sounded like a demolition charge went off and jets of fire shot through the windows of the Regency just above the thinnest clouds. Around him, people screamed and ran every which direction. Manic rats caught on a wheel. Remy tugged his collar up and hunched his shoulders against the chill, biting back tears.


    ¡°Goodbye, Frank. You deserved better.¡±

 Chapter 33: Desperate Times

    Another long ride north dodging potshots and watching the sun cross the horizon. Happy Jack had promised him a two hour head start so he knew he would only have about fifteen minutes before a bunch of dumb muscle wiped the cabin away. If Fernando wanted to have tea, they¡¯d be in big fucking trouble.


    He brought the speeder in tight and low, rumbling over the scraggly treetops without much regard for whatever shriveled life happened to be stumbling beneath him at the time. He tapped his fingers on the dash. An hour passed, and then another. Remy spent the time trying to figure out how to get out of New Madison when they got back. Speeders couldn¡¯t just fly to a new city. That would be too convenient. Federation insisted on permit this-and-that just to hop a shuttle over to Milwaukee or Saint Paul, even though they were each well within the range of his personal speeder. Maybe Happy Jack knew a guy who¡¯d do him a favor the next town over. Yeah right, like he wanted to owe a guy like that another favor. It felt like that¡¯s what started this whole mess.


    Couple murders didn¡¯t help his case none either. Undoubtedly, some lucky Redcap was checking cameras from across the city trying to piece together his identity. His first lawyer had erased his fingerprints years ago, and wiped away some of his facial records. He just hoped it would hold long enough to get out of town. If not, it¡¯d be a short hop on the shuttle and another short ride down to the jail. Wonder what Kathy would say this time. Bet Tyreese wouldn¡¯t even slip him any cigarettes.


    Remy finally crested the last hill and eyed the familiar wooden structure in a clearing ahead. Smoke puffed from the chimney and a low light filled the windows. He set the speeder down where he had just a few days before and trudged through broken snow to the front door. His fingers froze on the handle.


    Fernando¡¯s speeder was gone. Underneath the scraggly oak, a depression and a walking trail were all that remained. Sweat beaded under his hat despite the chill. Son of a bitch. Remy burst through the door and looked around frantically for Josie. It didn¡¯t take long to find her in a one room shack.


    Josie slumped over the table, where they ad eaten breakfast, cold as ice. She wasn¡¯t latched down as before so Remy lifted her onto her back on the table.


    ¡°No, no, no, no.¡± He muttered tossing his hat and coat to the side. Remy tapped the sides of her face.


    ¡°Josie. Josie, wake up. Come on, Josie, stay with me. Josie!¡± Her head lolled to the side and his fingers brushed red on her cheeks. His fingers worked their way to her throat. No pulse. Remy had never learned how to do heart compressions or whatever it was you were supposed to do when someone stopped breathing. Instead, he kicked a pile of stacked wood and screamed.


    He raged. Rage for Josie. For Franklin. For Claire. Fuck, even for Stefanie.


    Remy wanted to tear the cabin down piece by piece. In a span of three months, he¡¯d gone from a steady job without much a care in the world, to deeply caring for two wildly different women, to finally sinking to depths he didn¡¯t think he could reach. Remy sank to his knees on the cold floorboards and sobbed. It wasn¡¯t fair. He¡¯d barely gotten in the Inspector¡¯s way. He still managed to complete his own job, why take Josie? Bastard couldn¡¯t let someone else win, even at something like this.


    Bleary eyed, he noticed a piece of paper with long, languid strokes and retrieved it. Fernando¡¯s handwriting. Blinking away tears, he read.


    ¡°Remy St. Claire, my dear friend. I have heard about the demise of Ms. Adelaide and Mr. Mendez. It is a shame for the world to lose such intelligent individuals but know that it is not your fault and your conscious should not weigh you down. Are wicked things done for good reasons truly wicked? Probably, but it is better than doing wicked for wicked¡¯s own sake. You may think me a man of low character though there are worse than I in this world and you¡¯ve rid us of two of them. Bravo, I say.


    I am a man of my word, and I¡¯ll not have anyone say it is not so. The lovely Josephine is not dead, and you are most likely still on time. If I have judged you correctly, you will read this around the stroke of 8 in the evening, yes?¡±


    Remy¡¯s heart raced and he glanced at the clock on the wall. 7:51 P.M. She was alive! The letter continued.


    ¡°Her poison is a concoction of my own, and I am quite proud of my work. It is long-lasting, slow, painless, and leaves quite some time to remedy. If you have the proper medications and facilities, of course. I¡¯ve left you a list of medications and dosage in the lovely Josephine¡¯s right pocket. New Madison General should have them available. Else, you could always try to make it to Saint Paul if you thought your presence in New Madison would be¡­unwelcome. I would urge you to make haste as if it is indeed 8 in the evening, there will be only about 4 hours left before the poison finishes its sinister work. I suggest you get moving.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Until next time, my friend.


    Adios,


    F.¡±


    Remy shoved the note into his pocket and hoisted Josie off the table. Either she was lighter or he was stronger because Remy made his way across the room in two strides and after a few seconds more was securing her in his speeder.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got you, Josie. It¡¯ll be okay. We¡¯ll make it.¡±


    He secured the last safety harness and checked her right pocket for the medications. Empty.


    Fuck.


    Remy ran back to the shack. Maybe he¡¯d knocked it over in his rage, or maybe it had jostled loose from her pocket while she was being carried out. At the table, underneath where Josie had been lain, he found a second folded piece of paper and glanced at it to make sure it was the right one.


    ¡°Dear Remy. I thought I might have tricked you with this one but you are clever and found the list anyway. The medications are true. Good luck, my friend.¡±


    Below the note was a list of about a dozen medications that Remy hadn¡¯t heard of and couldn¡¯t pronounce if he tried. Taking only an instant to grab his discarded hat and duster, he raced back to the speeder and surged away over the trees before his door had even closed.


    Josie¡¯s head lolled against her window.


    ¡°We¡¯ll get there, Josie. Hold on.¡± His knuckles were white on the controls, overriding the autopilot¡¯s safe speed functionalities. On autopilot, the trip was just a shade under four hours which didn¡¯t leave much room for errors or actually getting any treatment to Josie. Manually, he could do it closer to three if he didn¡¯t mind never driving the speeder again. He¡¯d trade away ten speeders to have her in a hospital bed right now.


    Two minutes after take-off, a pair of armored speeders zoomed past him. Jack¡¯s boys come to take the toll. He tapped out a quick message to Jack that the Inspector had gotten away. Jack would be pissed. There wasn¡¯t much he could do about that now though. All of his thoughts were on squeezing an extra bit of speed or cutting a few seconds off their journey.


    After an hour of white-knuckled racing over treetops, Remy¡¯s heart rate slowed and he settled into an uneasy daydream. Fucking Fernando. He should¡¯ve known better than to expect the Inspector to be honest with him. But what else could he have done? Charged in with a gun and a Vasc loaded to fight? Fernando had Remy right where he wanted him: vulnerable, outmatched, and desperate.


    It was just after the third hour when they poked over a hill and Remy spotted the ominous green glow of New Madison¡¯s ghostfence on the horizon. Remy thanked whatever God or computer simulation controlled their trip back. He roared through the security checkpoints, knowing he¡¯d be followed. There wasn¡¯t time for some Redcap to rummage around looking for strange fruits or vegetables. Josie had under an hour to get a grocery list of medications.


    New Madison felt a lot more crowded when cruising at three times the speed limit. Remy skidded around skyscrapers that he couldn¡¯t rise over, and dipped and ducked his way around late night traffic. In his mirrors, he could see red and blue flashes haunting his path.


    ¡°Hold on, Josie. Just a little bit more, the hospital¡¯s right there!¡±


    She flopped in her seat like a rag-doll as he pushed their engines to their maximum. He¡¯d give his left nut for a Quant-Vasc right about now. Through another act of God or benevolent simulator, the Emergency entrance at New Madison General was empty when he slammed the brakes in front of its doors.


    A single robodoc pushing a bed approached his car as he popped open the doors.


    ¡°What is your medical emergency?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s poisoned. Here¡¯s the antidote.¡±


    ¡°Does not compute. There is no diagnosis. There can be no antidote without a diagnosis.¡±


    Remy lifted Josie from her seat and placed her on the hovering gurney. The robo doc pushed her forward and Remy followed waving the paper.


    ¡°Run your test but if you don¡¯t know what it is, try this. Please!¡±


    He knew he looked foolish, arguing with an unthinking robot in the middle of the night, but that was far from the top of his concerns. Josie had only a half hour left before the Inspector¡¯s poison would finish its work.


    The robo doc regarded the paper dispassionately and then red beams shot from its eyes to scan the paper.


    ¡°Document assimilated. Thank you for your service, citizen. You may wait inside.¡±


    ¡°Will you -¡±


    ¡°Please do not interrupt, citizen. You are inhibiting my bedside manner protocols.¡±


    Remy shut up. It was useless to argue with a robo doc. He watched helplessly as it whipped through automated doors and into the emergency area.


    Sirens blared and Remy knew the gig was up. His own speeder was a smoking ruin, it¡¯s engine burnt up and wheezing it fits. At least Josie¡¯d made it. She had to. All of this crap couldn¡¯t be for nothing. If she died anyway, what did that mean for what he had done? He couldn¡¯t think about Georgia now. Three police speeders skidded into the Emergency entrance.


    ¡°Hands where I can see them!¡± cried the first Redcap out of his car. ¡°On the ground, on the ground!¡±


    Remy complied, through exhaustion more than preservation. The concrete was cold on his knees and they ached from hours in a speeder. He held his hands high above his head.


    ¡°Vasc! Neutralize!¡± A second Redcap shouted.


    Remy glanced up at his own Vasculator, which was still cloaked by Josie¡¯s modifications to hide his load out from identification. He didn¡¯t have time to explain.


    ¡°Oh shit.¡±


    50,000 volts ran through his chest and Remy saw no more.

 Chapter 34: The Worst Fucking Cigarettes

    Remy¡¯d always told himself that he¡¯d never be a killer but for the right reason, a man could lose himself. A trail of bodies haunted his steps and he could see their faces when he slept. Claire¡¯s kind eyes and easy smile. Franklin¡¯s wrinkled cheeks and booze-reddened nose. Stefanie¡¯s shock as he pulled the trigger. Remy would do it again in a heartbeat.


    Three months ago, Remy had met with a nervous and breathtakingly beautiful school teacher to find her husband. Two weeks ago, he¡¯d killed that women in the middle of her apartment. She¡¯d used him, but she¡¯d deserved a better ending than that. At the end of the day, everyone deserved a better ending than that. He couldn¡¯t even think about Franklin. He didn¡¯t regret his actions, only that he had to choose in the first place.


    What a fucking waste of life. Stefanie¡¯s, Claire¡¯s, Franklin¡¯s, his own assuming he¡¯d ever get out. What about the thugs on the Beltrider? Cost of doing business?


    That didn¡¯t even count what their friends or family must think. Or the poor girl with Claire that night. Bianca? Was that her name? Her name didn¡¯t matter. She was still alive. If you were alive, you would be fine. Josie was still alive. That was all that mattered.


    New Madison¡¯s jails were pretty swanky as fair as jails went. He¡¯d spent time in more than a few but this was the first time he knew he wasn¡¯t getting out. He twirled a half-smoked cigarette in his hand and tried to roll over again. Sleep came hard for a man with a guilty conscience on a steel slab. You never really got used to it, he knew, you could only hope to tolerate it. Remy hoped he¡¯d start tolerating it better than he was so far.


    Kathy Jones, the first attorney he kept on retainer, had decided that this wouldn¡¯t be worth risking her streak of successful cases and refunded him the deposit. He couldn¡¯t really blame her. She mostly eye-rolled past his petty crimes and was paid well for facilitating his more lucrative ones but a few counts of murder, terrorism, and a dozen unregistered Vascs wasn¡¯t really petty or lucrative. He would¡¯ve passed on the case too.


    Tyreese was still around to talk about his shitty home life and getting off on charging far too much for a loose cigarette. Though he did agree to leave a message for Josie, so Remy couldn¡¯t be too mad. Honest-to-God, after the third day alone in a cell, he could¡¯ve had a good conversation with a charismatic rat. Tyreese was close enough.


    His thoughts always turned to Josie. He was lucky that she was already home when Tyreese went to deliver the message. Tyreese brought back a short note and Remy would¡¯ve paid any price for that.


    ¡±Remy, you are beyond words. I will see you again. Love, Josie.¡±


    It¡¯d been a long time since he¡¯d heard that word and knew it meant something. Probably since Josie had said it during their last go-around. He¡¯d told other women that, and had heard it in return. Then two months later, he¡¯d find himself in the arms of another and life went on. This one felt different. After a few minutes remembering how she looked that night beneath the Freeworker, all dolled up with a dress he¡¯d have to peel from her body, sleep found him at last.


    ***


    ¡°Hey, Remy, you got a visitor.¡± Tyreese smacked the barrier to his cell with his baton and he shook awake, nearly falling from his bed.


    ¡°Huh?¡± He hadn¡¯t received a single visitor since arriving. Kathy Jones sent him a letter declining representation and Tyreese said Judge banned all other visitation.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°Says she¡¯s your attorney. I wouldn¡¯t argue if I were you. I¡¯d say you could use the help.¡±


    Remy stretched and took a leak in his steel bucket of a toilet. About time she showed up. At least Kathy¡¯d had the decency to say something right away. What was his other one waiting for? An invitation?


    Tyreese deactivated the cell barrier and placed a pair of shackles on his wrists. They were just walking down the hall but the only time Tyreese was a stickler for the rules was when someone above his rank could see it. Remy followed him into the sterile white room and sat down across from his attorney. Tyreese clicked shut the door behind them.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d come by. Can¡¯t say I¡¯m not grateful though.¡±


    Eleanor Brinson could¡¯ve been a model but she¡¯d chosen to study law. He knew that because she told that to everyone within a minute or two of meeting them. Easy on the eyes or not, she was a damn good lawyer. Shoulder length blond-in-a-box hair and a shirt a half-size too small helped others underestimate her. Usually, right before she buried them in court, or, in at least one instance, the ground.


    Or so he¡¯d heard, at least. Only lawyers themselves actually went into the court. Josie¡¯d set him up with her after their last job out east. What a fantastic woman.


    ¡°I was otherwise engaged. I¡¯m here now though and charge by the hour. You want to get started or pay me to banter?¡± Eleanor had a tablet in front of her and passed one over to Remy.


    ¡°Sure. I assume you know what¡¯s going on?¡± He swiped open the tablet and his court documents popped up. He whistled. ¡°I guess so.¡±


    ¡°You guess right.¡± Three months ago, he¡¯d have been wondering what she was wearing underneath the blazer. Now, he only noticed the absence of the thought. Like missing the hum of a fan or sirens in the street when you¡¯re trying to get to sleep in a jail cell. Well, at least he noticed the absence before thinking about it a little bit. A man could look.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be blunt. I think you have an argument but it¡¯s a longshot.¡± She flicked through her tablet and settled on a series of camera stills. His own tablet changed to the same series. Remy was fortunate to not have eaten his breakfast or he could¡¯ve lost it.


    He saw himself, standing with a gun toward Stefanie. In the next slide, she tossed the Pheromone toward his feet. Over the next few, she came closer and closer and then she was on the floor. Remy pushed the tablet away.


    ¡°I know what I did. What does this prove other than I did it?¡±


    Eleanor rolled her eyes. ¡°Look at the Vasc. Pheromones, Generation Three or later, looks like. That¡¯s a X-rated Vasc from those particular generations. Practically mind control in the right hands. I think there¡¯s a pretty good self-defense argument or maybe even insanity.¡±


    Huh, he¡¯d never thought about it like that. He really didn¡¯t like to think about what things he did on his own volition and what was Stefanie¡¯s idea. 50/50? At best? Franklin wouldn¡¯t be included under that defense though. Eleanor read his mind.


    ¡°Mr. Mendez is a different case. There¡¯s some Revolutionary-era laws still active that might help. Josephine O¡¯Malley is your significant other, yes?¡±


    He nodded and couldn¡¯t help but smile. It was nice to hear it out loud.


    ¡°Well, remember to tell that to the camera. There¡¯s some stuff in there about coerced violence and given her medical records and the records the man known as ¡°the Inspector¡± gave you, I think that case can be dismissed too. Also helps that Mendez is a war criminal according to the Europeans. Federation might not see it that way, of course, but it helps the story some.¡±


    Remy frowned. He could really have a charge of blowing up an elderly man thrown out simply because someone he cared about was threatened, and the elderly man had done some shady shit once? That¡¯s why you hired representation, he supposed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll just pay the fine for the Vascs then, I suppose?¡±


    ¡°With what you¡¯re paying me, I don¡¯t think that¡¯ll be a concern for you, will it?¡±


    ¡°No, I suppose not.¡± It was just money, they could earn it again elsewhere. Importantly, beggars didn¡¯t have the luxury to set the terms so it was going to be fine whether he liked it or not.


    She flipped her tablet around and set it up on the table with the back facing him.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to ask a few questions, and you tell me what happened. Don¡¯t lie, the scanners can tell. Tell me the whole story.¡±


    ¡°Well, the first thing I remember is sitting in a coffee shop on the Plaza and a wave of cinnamon crashes over me¡­¡±

 Chapter 35: A Different Kind of Freedom

    There were plenty of places on Earth like New Madison. Greed was a universal solvent, dissolving what little bit of decency managed to calcify. Though there wasn¡¯t anyplace else in the Federation where you could get a slice of apple pie with real, honest-to-God cheese on it, it wasn¡¯t worth dying over. Good riddance.


    Eleanor ended up spending her retainer a few dozen times over but she had been worth every credit. Judge bought her argument, and he was a free man, standing on the steps of New Madison¡¯s jail. He wouldn¡¯t miss this view. He smoked the last of Tyreese¡¯s overpriced cigarettes and waited for Josie.


    She didn¡¯t make him wait long, whipping a new speeder around and popping open the door. Remy did a double take when he saw her.


    ¡°Whoa!¡± Her head was bald and he had to shuffle a small stack of wigs from the passenger seat in order to sit down. Josie blushed.


    ¡°Last gift from Fernando, I guess. Doc said I was ¡¯irresponsibly close to death.¡¯¡± She had the cutest laugh. It was the most refreshing sound in the world. How had he never noticed it before?


    ¡°Sounds exactly what a robot would say. I think you look great.¡± He kissed her and let her know that he meant it. Josie pulled back and pointed at the wigs.


    ¡°Figured we could pick one out depending on our mood for the day. What are you feeling?¡±


    The wigs looked nice, real human hair or a close enough replication to make no difference. She had a black one a bit shorter than she¡¯d worn her hair before, a shoulder length blond bob, and a brunette one with long straight hair. Mercifully, she didn¡¯t have any red wigs. He didn¡¯t think it was an oversight.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go without today. I¡¯m feeling the new look.¡± Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Josie wiped the corner of her eye and brought their speeder around back to their apartment. She¡¯d managed to move over just about everything of importance from O¡¯Malley Pawn during his stay at New Madison¡¯s finest and only penitentiary and had even sold the business itself. Even after his legal fees, they¡¯d be doing well enough. Well enough to start over, at least.


    Turns out, Josie¡¯d already bought tickets when she found out he was going to be released. In three days, they¡¯d hop on a shuttle and land in Couver, far away on the coast. It¡¯d been years since he¡¯d seen a real ocean, green though it was.


    For those three days, Remy relaxed for the first time in what felt like his entire life. They drank from dirty glasses at the School House and slipped some credits to Luis for being a friend. As much a friend as Remy had anyway. Jack didn¡¯t fucking count. They brought flowers to the Regency for Franklin and Remy murmured the best apology he could think of. He didn¡¯t have a great one but he¡¯d hoped he could understand.


    Josie pulled him away from the Regency and into the farmer¡¯s market set up in the plaza. They pecked at spicy breads and bought fresh cheese and savored each bite, knowing that Couver¡¯s cheese would taste like plastic, assuming they knew how to replicate anything beyond the basics. God, he¡¯d miss the cheese.


    That night they ate noodles and watched some pre-Revolution Holos from the floor since she¡¯d sold all their furniture too. Josie fell asleep on his shoulder and Remy couldn¡¯t bear to wake her. They woke up with the holos still playing, their noodles assaulted by flies, and his arm thoroughly asleep. He threw on his hat over his wild hair and dragged Josie to the greasy spoon down the street for pancakes and brown-sludge coffee.


    When it finally came time to leave New Madison, Remy had his fill of the sights and was packed up with a day to spare. There wasn¡¯t much to take. A few changes of clothes, whatever Vascs he had left, a gun, and his hat. It rained on the coast. He¡¯d need the hat.


    They reached the shuttle station on New Madison¡¯s south side with a few hours to spare. Customs and security took longer for celebrity murderers, even if that murderer¡¯s charges had been dismissed. In either case, an Redcap customs agent welcomed them aboard with a sneer and hoisted their luggage far too roughly into the bay below.


    He didn¡¯t care. They were free. Remy shut their cabin¡¯s door and closed his eyes. His fingers found Josie¡¯s on her lap next to him and he smiled. Going through hell was one thing but, unless you stopped there, it couldn¡¯t catch up.

 Epilogue: The Inspectors Flight

    Vascorp shuttles were delightfully easy to track; no one else bothered to try to scramble their signal. Fernando adjusted the autopilot and poured himself a glass of wine. 2296 Chateau Lafite Rothschild was truly a remarkable year. He had almost managed to replicate it precisely. Nothing beat a real bottle of the stuff, though. If this plan worked, he¡¯d have to open one of the last ones.


    He hummed a tune and the shuttle drew closer through his view port. His gambit of giving over the Prototype in order to identify Vascorp black sites had worked well beyond what he¡¯d dared hope but the Prototype was now making its last transfer and he had it within his sights.


    ¡°Annabelle, prepare the ion spikes,¡± he said.


    His shuttle beeped back and Fernando saw weapons systems charging.


    ¡°Ion spikes charging, Inspector.¡± The computer¡¯s voice was young, and innocent. Sometimes he¡¯d felt guilty over what¡¯d happened to that poor girl, but then again, sometimes he did not. Now, he just enjoyed her company.


    Dawn broke behind them, lighting the mountain peaks ahead.


    ¡°Unidentified shuttle, stand down and alter course. This is a private flight path and you are trespassing.¡± A man¡¯s voice buzzed through the communications unit. Fernando swirled his wine and admired its legs clinging to the sides of the glass. Lovely.


    ¡°Oh, I am terribly sorry, my friend. I did not know this was a private corridor and was merely following you to save fuel. That is my cabin, there, by the base of the mountain, you see?¡± He flicked the comms unit off. ¡°Annabelle, full throttle.¡±


    ¡°Full throttle, sir.¡± The inertial compensators made their jolt forward feel like a gentle tug and he sipped from the Rothschild.


    ¡°Negative, unidentified shuttle. We detect no structures ahead. Divert your path immediately or we will be forced to assume hostile intent.¡±


    Fernando hovered his hand over their weapons systems.


    ¡°If you insist, my friends.¡±


    He slid the ion spikes to full and three long blueish-white streaks lanced from his shuttle into Vascorp¡¯s. Blueish-white lightning arced along its hull and their engines flickered, whinnying for life. Garbled and static-filled transmissions crackled out his speakers and he turned them down and resumed humming.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Follow them down, Annabelle. We¡¯ll see if our friends need a helping hand, hmm?¡±


    ¡°Pursuit confirmed. Long range scanners show five shuttles matching Vascorp profiles en route.¡±


    ¡°Then, please hurry, Annabelle.¡±


    Vascorp¡¯s shuttle lost altitude rapidly and crashed into a field of long, yellowed grass. It skipped once off the hardened earth and buried itself nose-first at the end of a long skid. Annabelle set down near the wreckage and Fernando set down his wine.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back for you in a moment,¡± he said to Annabelle and his wine. He exited down the rear ramp of his shuttle with a gun in one hand and a fully-charged Singularity in the other. It was his rarest Vasc. Until today, that is. He¡¯d tried it on in New Madison, just to taste the power. He had to have it for the collection.


    Air out here in the plains was course and thick, like chewing through hot gelatin made of dirt. He tapped a button on his flight suit¡¯s collar and an air-tight helmet formed around his head and cool air lightly scented with a homemade blend of lavender and rich cedarwood filled his nostrils.


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s better. Now, where are you, my friends?¡±


    Vascorp¡¯s shuttle took enough damage on impact to ensure it wouldn¡¯t fly again. One engine hung from it¡¯s wiring and some broken steel cables, sparking every which way. The front viewport was cracked into a thousand little pieces and was pulsing, as if a Vascorp crew member was attempting to kick his way out. Fernando waited outside and raised both arms. No sense drawing this out. He held a gun in his right hand and flexed the Vasc-powered fingers on his left.


    The viewport flew off its mounts and the pilot in his crisp white suit, now splattered with blood, scrambled out. Fernando shot him in the head. He launched himself forward onto the hood of the shuttle and found one other crew member missing a head and the other trapped under a crushed dashboard. Fernando shot him too.


    ¡°I regret only that it was too late to help you, my friends. Such is life, no?¡± He took a deep breath and extended his left arm. Slowly, he brought his fingers down as if clenching an imaginary ball and a dark void appeared in the middle of the ruined shuttle cabin. Immediately, objects small and large that weren¡¯t screwed down flew toward it.


    Fernando stepped off the nose of the shuttle and pulled the singularity along with him. Once outside, he unclenched his hand and all the objects dropped to the ground. It only took a moment of rustling through the cabin¡¯s contents to find it. Fernando returned to  Annabelle, and set a course for Vegas. It was as good of apartment as any.


    Annabelle soared over the morning-lit mountains and played a soft music with brass horns and string bass. He sipped at the Rothschild and swapped out his Singularity for the Prototype. He remembered the power he¡¯d felt. The several minutes it took for his body to load the Vasc was agonizingly long and not even wine could slake his impatience. Finally, the tingling sensation faded and it was done.


    ¡°Starfire engaged, ready for command.¡± His brain heard the words, understanding them to be true, though his ears heard nothing. Fernando smiled.


    Vascorp would finally pay for their crimes.