CHAPTER 2
A PERSONAL MATTER
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I watched helplessly as she walked away with my vision messed up by crazy hex strings and augmented reality windows. I let my back fall to the grass and tried to calm down. We were symbiotic but I was the boss of that man-machine combo. I ordered an emergency shutdown and as a result every muscle in my body relaxed, including my bladder. Being already soaked from the plunge allowed me to maintain a modicum of dignity as I pissed myself.
"Bitch!", I yelled as I staggered to my feet. What could I do? I touched the ULS door, feeling the metal scratched by the rock with my fingers. I restarted the SAI in safe mode and ordered a diagnostic: some of the neural junctions were severed and there was no way to fix them without the help of a technician. "I'll bill you for the damage, you fucking street rat."
I stood there, motionless for a moment. I couldn't contact anyone to pick me up or they would tear me apart upon discovering the details of my misadventure. I tried unsuccessfully to contact Matt but of course at that time of night who knows what kind of business he was in.
I could only make a long trek to the city. With an uncertain step I followed an old asphalt road for hours, tortured by twinges in my head at every glow of streetlights or signs. I tried to squint as much as possible, looking for any terminal to call an air cab. The damned paid transportation in Paris didn't have a damned online portal I could use.
Night fell, the streets were deserted, still and dangerous. In the alleyways you could meet miscreants of all types and ethnicities, but they all kept their distance, perhaps because I was in uniform.
It seemed that during the night taxi drivers refused to go down to the suburbs to work. Given the people I had spotted during the unpleasant walk, I couldn't blame them, despite the discomfort the situation was causing me. I had to send several requests, almost beg, to get a ride.
Finally, a daredevil arrived with the lemon-yellow aircraft that landed precisely in front of the terminal I was leaning against in an attempt to support me. I opened the rear door and lay down on the seats immediately after closing the cockpit door.
"Où devez-vous aller?" asked the woman driving, a scruffy forty-something woman with short, dark hair.
The AI thankfully translated for me and I realized she wanted the destination. "Ah... I... at the Jaurès. Take me to Jaurès hotel," I said confused and half asleep. "And speak human, my SAI isn't doing so well at the moment."
"Is that blood? On my seats? You better leave me a tip," she said taking off slowly. "Wild night, right cadet?" the driver commented sarcastically. "You Yankees never know how to moderate yourselves."
"What you saying?"
"You're always drunk when you go out. You're drunk as hell, and covered in... shit?" the woman sentenced with some disappointment. "It better not be that or I'll throw you out."
"There's a misunderstanding. I just got mugged," I explained with a streak of embarrassment.
"Is that so? Welcome to Paris," she replied, amused by my misadventures. Luckily, the trip continued in silence. I was struggling to keep from falling asleep. I passed my hand over my sweaty forehead and felt the cut that the stone had made. My fingertips clearly felt the stale blood trails down my neck. Even my coat was stained. I was certain, of one thing, I would not leave the federated state of France without first putting her in handcuffs. My head continued to throb violently and every twinge of pain was a little more anger growing.
"Hotel Jaurès, you're home rich Yankee. If you give me a nice tip I'll drag you up to your room, you can't even stand up. If you're cheap, however, it's only 27 credits and 0.65. Let's make it 28, that's easier to remember", she said. It took me a while to realize that the air cab was descending downwards more and more slowly, until it stopped.
"Well?" she asked impatiently.
"I'll give you 50 if you help me out," I replied.
"You don't have to tell me twice," she agreed. She got out of the car in a flash and went around it to open the door I had come in through. She held out his hand and helped me up. "First out the dough," he said, releasing his grip as soon as she saw me stable sitting.
"There you go," I said and authorized SAI to deposit 50 credits into that chick's account.
"Bah," she scoffed holding me up. "If I think that I pay taxes to pay for you worthless parasites."
"Don't put on such airs," I tried to retort. "Your job could be done by an AI."
"They used to do it before they got mad, so I serve more than you, Yankee," she replied, dragging me out and closing the car’s door. We walked a few steps, with her twisting my arm around her neck and supporting me.
"Hey you, what are you doing!" yelled a familiar voice not far away. Matt took off running towards us with a threatening air. "You, drop him right now," he ordered the woman.
"All your buddy," she said, suddenly letting go of my arm and dropping me to the ground on my knees. I didn't see what followed but I clearly heard an air cab door open and close, before the craft quickly took off as Matt prepared to rescue me.
"Daith, what the fuck happened to you?" he asked worriedly, helping me getting back on my feet.
"That bitch...."
"You? Whoring? Who knew!" he laughed after seeing the actual severity of the damage.
"What are you doing here?"
"A cigarette before bed. We just got back from a night out," he explained. "You had a good time, too, I see."
"Get me to bed, quick," I said. I was completely worn out. "I need to lie down."
"Gods look at that cut," he commented supporting me as best he could.
"Damn...," I said in an inaudible voice, beginning to lose touch with reality.
"How many were there to get you like this? Come on man, stay awake, hang in there. Keep listening to me, okay? Stay awake."
"SAI is malfunctioning... it's getting to…," I said with the last of my strength.
Suddenly everything became clearer. The pain seemed to fade, as did everything else around me. A faint light had now replaced the Parisian night. The asphalt, the skyscrapers, Matt, everything had suddenly vanished. I looked around me confused: I was surrounded by a large green and fresh countryside, totally wrapped in a thick white and humid fog. A light and pleasant breeze was blowing, moving the emerald grass and making it sway with a slow and steady rhythm. Only the sound of the wind was reminding me that I had not gone deaf, so silent was this place. I started to spin around trying to figure out where I was.
I looked down and instead of my boots, I saw two bare feet of a child wearing a pair of sandals. I looked around again and the countryside was gone.
"Sean! Sean wake up! Wake up Sean!", I yelled in a white voice. John opened his eyes confused, his gaze lingering misty on my young, cheerful little brother's face. It was dark in the bedroom, only a few rays of light filtered through the window to the right of the bed he was lying on.
"What... oh, Daith what the f… it's only... it's...", John went in search of the digital alarm clock on the nightstand to his left, but there was no need.
"It's five o'clock, come on get up! Come on come on! Wakey wakey!", I shouted excitedly.
"Ah... what... what's going on?" he asked confused. He clapped his hands twice and the lights in the room came on. The glow of a long, pale neon hanging from the ceiling revealed the room where John slept. It was a small rectangular room, with white painted walls, a poor red iron bed lying on one wall, a window with a thin, gray Venetian blind that acted as a curtain, a bedside table with a digital alarm clock and, on the opposite side of the bed, a worn wooden closet.
John sat down as I hopped excitedly beside him. He ran a hand through his long, disheveled, shaggy red hair. He was a slender, athletic boy with handsome features, dark green eyes and an intense gaze that was stern but also gentle. He smiled as he watched me bounce around excitedly and happily not far away. At the time I was a lively and dynamic kid just like our father.
"What's going on?" asked John patiently.
"Come on Sean get dressed! We have to run!", I insisted.
"To go where?" he asked again.
"Daddy! Daddy!", I exclaimed at the height of my joy. "He's back! Daddy's back!"
"Dad? Here? Right now?" asked John bewildered and now happy as well.
"Yeah yeah come on let's go! The ship just landed!"
"It's called a hovercraft Daith. Do you understand?", John smilingly corrected me as he quickly got up abandoning the warmth of the sheets going in search of something to dress up with.
"I know!", I burst in then irritated. John let out a big laugh.
It was a bitter laugh. Our father's mission had suffered several setbacks, and it was considerably odd that his team had returned at that exact time and place. He realized that this was not a good sign.
"Are you moving then? Slug slug slug!", I scolded him.
John stuck his tongue out in a childish way as he finished tightening the waistband of the baggy gray pants he had worn along with a black T-shirt with a gold eagle printed on it. He quickly zipped up his crotch and patted his head in an attempt to fix his hair. He opened the door and walked out of the bedroom with me in tow, I took him by the hand and energetically began to tug at him.
"Take it easy, he's not going to run away you know," John chuckled. I was leading him through a clear hallway with a polished floor and white walls that resembled that of a hospital. In reality, it was nothing more than a sparsely populated wing of the men's dormitory at the Denver Military Academy. The immense complex of understated and essential buildings constituted one of the most elite training centers ever in the Federation of Earth Domains now known only as Humanity, and John was very proud to be part of that year's outgoing class. In addition to being a training and educational center, the Denver academy was also a military base in its own right, and on that cool April morning a hovercraft from the Denver spaceport was landing on a clearing not far from the dormitories. Inside the hovercraft was Cillian Lester himself, our father.
As John tried to shield me with his body from the gusts of wind from the aircraft, a large rectangular hatch opened from the back of the craft. The engines cut out with a sharp, prolonged sound and the air slowed down and stopped whirling around the two of us. In the meantime, the sun behind us was emerging from the horizon, ready to make its usual daily journey through the clouds.
The long shadows stood out on the reddish asphalt of the square, while all around lay the square and pale buildings of the academy.
From the back of the vehicle, now stable and still on the ground, came out, worn and like empty shells, some soldiers in black uniforms. Few were healthy and strong. Many were hunched over and bandaged, with bandages, plasters and dressings on their arms or legs, others had a collar protecting and immobilizing their necks. John's eyes widened. He turned to me and knelt down until he could stare into my eyes.
"Daith, listen to me carefully. I want you to stay right here, okay? Do you understand?" he asked softly.
"Why? Dad is coming…," I asked without understanding.
"Yeah, but I'm going in alone for a minute, you stay here, okay?"
"But...."
"Stay here!" the young man then ordered, sternly. I stood petrified and nodded my head. "I'll be back," John reassured me more gently and ran up the ramp leading into the vehicle. He stopped short in his run to address one of the men coming down. He was a stout man, but visibly drained and with a bandage over one eye.
"Lieutenant Kurz! Where is my father?" asked John of the young man. The man didn't answer, but nodded, pointing to the hold of the vehicle behind them. John jumped like a bolt of lightning and jumped into the hovercraft, disappearing from my sight.
I waited patiently for my brother to call me back. I waited, staring into the darkness of the hold, letting the wounded and tired soldiers pass me by without a care in the world. After a few minutes, they had all reached the academy's main building, Headquarters. No one was leaving the aircraft anymore.
"Sean!", I called in a ringing voice breaking the silence. "Sean! Dad!", I yelled again. Disobeying my brother's order, I rushed and with a few leaps I was over the door folded down to the ground, reaching the mouth of the dark hold. The darkness filled the oppressive, metallic room of the aircraft. I stood in the doorway, catching sight of two men bent over one of the many black bags lying on the floor.
"Sean?" I called. John remained apparently motionless. The man next to him, on the other hand, could clearly see how he was shaking. "Sean?", I called to him again.
"Daith... go away...," the red-haired boy whispered, barely choking back tears.
"Sean...," I continued. I took a few tentative steps forward, staring at the gurney anxiously. The sun had risen a little from the horizon, the light penetrating more and more into the hold. Everything was unchanged and frozen. Then, suddenly, I understood. And I screamed, releasing tears of pain. John snapped and came to take me in his arms.
"Let's go Daith. Let's go away..." he whispered lovingly, as I continued to struggle and cry. I wanted to go inside, but John wouldn't let me. He came down slowly and with a serious face. In the distance, two men in uniform were walking briskly toward the vehicle. They were coming to retrieve the body of old Cillian Lester.
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I woke up, sweaty and still wearing my muddy uniform, barefoot.
I was in my hotel room and must have slept a lot. I stared at Matt, who was sitting in an armchair not far from my bed, busy with his eyes closed, surely absorbed in some online bullshit with his SAI. I looked around me to get the hang of it. The suite I was staying in was a large rectangular room with a high ceiling located on the 182nd floor of the Tour De Gaulle. Furnished in a sophisticated and elegant way, with light and cozy tones, it had a private bathroom with Jacuzzi, fine upholstery, parquet and Persian carpets as well as a large and now useless holographic television and a fireplace.
"You were talking in your sleep. Nightmares?" asked Matt as he re-emerged from the metaverse.
"I have a habit of dreaming about the past. Does that ever happen to you?"
"Well, maybe mixed with dumb fantasies."
"It wouldn't be bad like that. They'd give a touch of joy to certain memories...".
"I bought a new DLC of yourMemories, I can program my rem phases and dreams however I want. I always have to change my underwear in the morning, you should try it...".
"How much sleep did I get?", I ignored him going straight touching the ULS door.
"I dragged you over here, cleaned your wound and called in a tech guy who, given the time of day, asked for a lot of money. He reset your AI to factory settings and restored some functions that were interrupted by the trauma. Since your AI is military, he obviously couldn't open you up to fix the severed neural connections, he assured me though that the software should automatically adapt and suspend any incapacitated functions. Once in Seattle, you'll have to find an excuse to request technical support.
In addition to fleecing you, the technician scrounged for coffee. I got you some too, but it's probably lukewarm by now," he said. On a bedside table not far from the bed there was a paper cup. I greedily took it and began to sip my favorite drink.
If you're ever in that area baby, avoid drinking coffee. Gods if sucks.
"Now you're the one who has to loosen your tongue. I leave to go party and when I come back I find you standing in front of the lobby covered in blood. What the fuck Little D! Every damn time?"
"That bitch," I said standing up and stripping off my raincoat, tossing it behind me on top of the huge two and a half bed.
"Who are you talking about?" he asked snidely. "Did you really go whoring last night?"
"The chick from the Tower. Bitch! But if I’ll find her...."
"Hold on, man. You sound crazy, explain yourself."
"The vest. The vest one."
"Vest. Wait, the hostage that got away from you?"
"Yeah! I found her. Not that I was looking for her, but I recognized her on the streets. I found where she lives and was about to take her into custody when I got held up by some guys."
"Whoa, wait, stop. You found her? How the hell did you do that? The scanners didn't pick up the chip or her SAI's SP address, and the cameras' resolution was too low for facial recognition!"
"She... ran me over on a bike," I admitted embarrassed.
"She did what?!" he asked incredulously. "A bike? A real one? With wheels?"
"You heard me."
"Gosh we're in Europe after all," she commented scornfully. "But... how did you know it was her? Don't tell me you followed some random girl."
"Believe me. You don't forget a girl like that," I said with mild embarrassment.
Matt caught the point and gave an interested smile. "Oh yeah? Look at you Captain America, someone finally warmed your blood. Let's hear, what guys? Are we talking about a genuine princess in distress?"
"It seems the story at Tour Athena was no trivial matter. They were trying to track down that very girl, only I don't know why nor even why she wouldn't let herself be protected."
"Afraid of the police? Maybe she’s a criminal...".
"He seemed to be living in... constraints, actually."
"Anyway, I'll call Carter, he'll take care of it," said Matt surely about to send a message via the net to our commander.
"Hold on."
"Why?"
"I'll handle this one."
"Of course... on what authority if I may ask? You're not a cop."
"I don't care. Leave Carter alone," I urged him. Matt obeyed with a snort. "No one and I mean no one fucks with me like this! It will be me and only me who will personally put her behind bars."
"She's probably left town by now. And let me remind you that we're only here for a few more days and if Carter finds out you're doing investigations without his knowledge or the cops' knowledge he'll skin you alive."
"Matt I don't fucking care! I just want the satisfaction of catching her!"
"You're too involved," he noted puzzled. "Again..."
"Guilty as charged, I know. I'm having a lot of fun with this game."
"You don't... play cop Daith. Those are real bullets that whistle when you get involved in things like this and are real legal troubles if you cause damage or break procedures! As cadets we can only intervene if we have a compelling need."
I knew they were true. So did the hostage who had died the day before. That Deena was a real pain in the ass, but I didn't want her to end up like that. If I had been faster, she would have been safe by now. I didn't want to put it on those terms with Matt, so I stalled. "So? That's what we're training for, right?"
"To crack assholes for the sake of being heroes? Not me beauty. At this point then," he said raising his hands, "I know absolutely nothing about it. Have it your way...you won't find anything anyway. To think that this story has come to this point by such a ridiculous coincidence."
"And you're going to help me out," I said staring at him.
"I... what? No way. I have nothing to do with it, deal with it. You've already brought me enough trouble, besides covering for you I don't want to do anything else, I think that's enough."
"Are you sure?", I asked convinced of my business.
"Absolutely," he replied, resting confidently on the back of the chair, crossing his legs and arms in defiance.
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Lunchtime had just passed and after a short break at the hotel restaurant I finally set out to resume my search.
My virtual chat with Carter was not the most edifying but inexplicably had rather painless results for the standard. No investigation was opened against me and I was simply sanctioned to compensate the company that owned the Athena Tower for the damages I had unnecessarily caused to the infrastructure. The fact that I had discovered the hostages in advance had wiped out the rest of my sins, which meant that I had gained exactly nothing from the FMP operation. I had to make it up somehow.
"Quit huffing," I protested as I observed the city from the window of the flying airtaxi.
"You bastard," Matt muttered.
"I heard you," I said. "Come on, let's get your business done too."
"Sure, why not? If we don't get killed first," he continued in annoyance. "If you don't get off your ass Carter might accidentally find out what you did last summer in Lisbon, he says. And I also tell him about the escape to New Toronto, he says. I cover for you and you blackmail me, you’re such a good friend."
"I just care about the results," I dismissed him hastily.
"Can't you have fun online with video games like everyone else? Or is it the pussy that moves you? Because there are millions of hot girls out there to seduce in better ways than trying to arrest them!"
"Don't mistake me for some random loser. I just want to have fun in my own way, that's all, and maybe scrape up a nice commendation for a fortuitous catch. We're here anyway."
"Giving the uniform to exalted people like you only does harm! What do you need me for?" asked Matt, starting to get annoyed.
"Are you armed?", I asked. He was also dressed in his cadet uniform.
"No, why would I be?" he replied.
"Then I don't need you, take this," I said and opened my raincoat, pulled a pistol out of one of the holsters and tossed it to him. He grabbed it on the fly and hurried to hide it, opening the raincoat and jamming it behind his back with the waistband of his pants. "Now I need you."
"You're crazy."
The cab, although with some hesitation, took us in fifteen minutes to the address I had told the driver, which was the old house where Deena seemed to live. I told the driver to wait for us and he was pleased, reminding me that the meter was running anyway. I also told Matt to wait for me at the car and to intervene in case of unforeseen events, a tactic similar to the one used by those who in that same place the day before had given me a lesson in humility. I took the same route as last time, going through the outside and into the back yard. There was nothing and no one there and I decided to enter the house. I knocked three times and waited, but seeing any reaction delayed I prepared to force my way in.
It was the sound of an aircraft behind me that made me suddenly change my mind. Aboard an old banger that I couldn't even imagine how it could fly, this guy named Dumas was running away, staring at me in fear. "You stop!" I yelled at him, but as soon as he saw me pull out my gun, he pressed on the accelerator, sending a huge flame out of the rear turbines of the vehicle, which gave the necessary thrust to that flying dud to take off at full throttle. After cursing it in my mind, I immediately ran to the air cab.
"Matt get in!" I yelled running up to him. He immediately obeyed, looking at me with an astonished expression. I got into the taxi and sat down next to the driver, who was also surprised by my behavior.
"Move, follow that aircraft!" I ordered him.
"What, are you making a movie?" he laughed.
"Yeah, that's right, I'll pay you double if you act right!".
"We're filming," he replied and immediately took off with a huge roar.
"Seriously Daith? We're at this? You follow the fucking car? Do you have some other stupid cliché to ruin my afternoon with?" protested Matt jolted here and there by the sharp turns.
"Sorry if I ruined your schedule, after your daily dose of masturbation who were you planning on stalking on Starlink?"
"At least I'm trying to find a stable relationship!".
At least the taxi driver seemed to appreciate a little adrenaline. The airtaxi was running unusually fast, perhaps due to the illegally rigged propulsion system, so we reached Dumas' aero car in no time. I lowered the electric window and asked SAI to work out a trajectory to compensate for the shot and show it to me in augmented reality.
"Listen, don't jerk her around, all right? And slow down a little or you'll hit her after I hit her," I said to the driver, who immediately moderated his speed. I pulled out the gun I had left from its place under my coat, turned on the laser sight that the SAI was going to interface with and began to take aim. It wasn't an easy shot, also because both ours and Dumas' car were going up and down all the time. I combined my instinct and skill with the symbiote's suggestions and fired.
The shot hit, going into one of the turbines of Dumas' vehicle. There was a bang and the turbine shut down. The aircraft made a sharp slowdown and then a sudden turn.
"Good, now follow it and pull over and I'll land it!" I shouted to the driver. I took aim again and fired. With good accuracy I hit the central rearview mirror, piercing the window and the windshield of poor Dumas, who looked at me in shock. I waved to him to get down, and he slowly shook his head, before performing the landing maneuver. Eventually, our good taxi driver also landed next to the old man's cart.
"Kudos on the diplomacy," Matt said sarcastically. "You know he can file at least ten lawsuits against us for this stunt of yours?"
"Thanks," I replied simply as I got out of the cab. "Get the lawyers ready."
"Wait for us again," Matt told the driver before getting out as well. The man nodded thinking about all the money he was about to collect that day.
With just two steps I reached Dumas's plane, opened the door, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the body of his mouse-gray hunk of junk.
"I'm still looking for that Deena," I explained succinctly.
"Didn't you get her yesterday? She didn't come back here! My car! Again!" he whined.
"You lost dirty money, my heart is breaking! Then where is the girl?", I insisted.
"I don't know where she is," he replied without almost giving me time to finish my sentence. "She didn't come back here!"
"Is that so?"
"Juré!"
"Maybe you know where she might be, though."
"No I..."
"Watch out man, that guy's a nut," Matt then said playing good cop, bad cop. Finally some cooperation. I was really tired and had little time to waste, so I pulled out my trusty P99 again and pointed it at his stomach.
"I'm in a hurry, do me the courtesy of saving me the trouble of looking for her," I threatened him, committing to being convincing.
"You can't take me down, there's a witness!" he said with bright eyes. "You're just a cadet! What do you think you're doing? On whose authority?"
I looked at the cab driver for a moment, then resumed staring sarcastically at Dumas, "Come on, he's a cab driver. For 100 credits he'll bury you for me," I said. It wasn't too far-fetched an assumption. Evidently the man thought so too, because he immediately became talkative.
"Okay, okay! I don't know her that well but I'd say try La Défense!"
"La Défense?", I asked.
"Yes, in the clubs of the Défense! Guys like you always take refuge there if for some reason they come into contact with the government, to let things calm down."
"Which ones?"
"I don't know, I swear! In the nightclubs, I don't know which ones! He certainly doesn't tell me who he's messing with!".
"Careful he shoots," Matt said, straining to keep a straight face.
I clicked the safety on my weapon, testing the truthfulness of his words.
"I swear I don't know, I don't know which ones!" he yelled in a panic.
"Thanks," I said as if nothing had happened, letting go and putting the weapon back. I turned my back on him and with Matt finally letting out a laugh I climbed back into the cab. As soon as I was on board, I saw Dumas fall to the ground on his knees, recovering from shock.
"There's a certain wickedness about you Daith," Matt joked. "When you play crazy you're always believable."
"I am crazy Matt. Family, remember?", I said seriously.
Matt's smile that was finally starting to have some fun suddenly became a bitter smile. "You should put that story behind you, Daith...".
"Monsieur, it scared even me. However, if you need to I know a good place to hide certain evidence," the taxi driver interjected.
"Do the police here often break the rules?" asked Matt curiously.
"Very often, yes. Tough town," he confirmed. "Won't go whining to the FMP about this talk of yours if that's what you're worried about."
"Best if you don't add anything else," I interrupted him. "Rather, can you tell me anything about the nightclubs in a place called Défense?"
"Certainly, they're open from nine o'clock at night until five in the morning, but they're not a good place, especially for guys like you."
"Guys like us?" elaborated Matt.
"They don't like the feds much. Looking like that, they'll shoot you on sight!"
"Take us back to Jaurès please," I ordered him. He replied with an oui and started the engine, while Matt didn't hide his disappointment.
"It's finally over, thank goodness," huffed Matt almost relieved. "It could have been worse."
"What part of nightclubs don't you understand? We're supposed to catch you out and about, not break into every single hovel in the Défense."
"Oh," Matt sighed. He thought about it for a moment, looking for the silver lining in that adventure. "Ah now this is getting interesting. Low profile and civilian clothes?"
"Aren't you happy? Tonight, we do what you like."
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Deafening music coming out of squalid premises, garbage everywhere, burnt bins and prostitutes, as well as lots and lots of scum. This is all that remains of the pride of twentieth-century France: the former technological district of Paris, La Défense. Destroyed like everything else during the last war, it had never been rebuilt or reclaimed. Over the years, first a shantytown had sprung up, then a failed attempt to build a new residential neighborhood attracted only mafia, drugs and prostitution. It was a sort of alternative Paris, definitely worse than the real metropolis already almost dystopian in itself. Down there even the police only rarely went snooping.
Every time, little one, that you asked me to go to Europe, I said no. Maybe now you'll understand why I preferred your endless mumbling to the risk of seeing you in such a place.
"Cool. People here know how to have fun," Matt commented as he got out of the cab and adjusted the collar of his jacket.
"That's 36 for the ride plus the 100 you promised me," the driver counted.
"Here," I replied handing him the credit cards, "If I call you throw the customer out the window and run over here."
"Best wishes monsieur," he said before taking off. "Free advice. This neighborhood is bad, very bad. You like to play vigilante but people here kill to eat, I don't know if I made my point. If you were my kids, I would pull your ears."
"What do you think we get paid for? Get lost." I sent him away with a dirty look not understanding at that age how people could see us from the outside. Matt and I were two kids whose youthful appearance didn't hint at the training and skills we had already learned so early in our lives anyway. Our peers played with balls and video games, I played with handcuffs and guns. As crazy as it sounds that was my life for seven years now.
I had made an effort to combine tactical clothing with civilian clothes to provide me with some security. I wore black jeans and a white shirt outside my pants with a uniform TW shirt underneath. At least one stab wound would have escaped. I hid the gun under my belt above my butt.
"Now?" asked Matt, dressed similarly but mirrored in color from me. "Shall we jump into the fray? They play a hell of a retrowave around here."
"Keep an eye out," I said.
"Hi," he ignored me waving at a couple of very provocative girls who were eyeing him.
"What the fuck are you doing?", I asked shocked.
"You bring me here and don't let me have any fun? Relax... This absurd manhunt of yours is just a perverse amusement, I will never take you seriously! You look for your princess in distress, I've got your back."
"Follow me and cut the crap."
"Yes sir," he mocked me doing a caricatured military salute. "We're too fancy for this place."
The search began. Based on what I'd managed to find out, there were a total of four clubs in that place, plus a fifth that was some sort of private club, frequented by a curious gang of thugs and immune even to the local mob racket. My instincts told me to start right there but for once I decided to use my brain instead, starting first to scout the less dangerous clubs.
"How about that one?" said Matt. "The name sounds promising. Sexbomb inspires me with confidence."
"A subtle message. One's as good as the other for now," I replied. The club's sign made of pink neon stood above a dingy deserted entrance presided over by a huge guy who was supposed to be the bouncer. After resolving a difference of opinion on fashion with that guy by stuffing him into a garbage can nearby, we entered the club.
As soon as we entered, a deafening music rattled my brain. It was a monotonous, repetitive series of bangs that made my chest jolt every half second. I was in a circular club, with a bar on one side, rows of round tables all outside a large and crowded dance floor where, in the middle, a dancer danced madly clinging to a pole. Billions of lights cut through the darkness with different colors and rhythms, every now and then the air was filled with artificial fog and laser lights danced on people's faces and walls.
"Ah, finally some pussy!" yelled Matt with his eyes twinkling.
"What?", I asked without even being able to understand what he was saying to me less than a foot from my ear. I asked SAI to analyze what I was seeing so that I could first track down the face of the girl whose face I had digitized.
"Hi handsome soldier," said a half-naked girl pinning herself to Matt's arm. He replied something I couldn't hear. But I felt a slight pressure on my left hand: another girl had taken me gently by the hand and whispered something in my ear: "So, can we have something strong?" She stroked my ear with the tip of her tongue, then looked at me mischievously.
"Why you’re calling me soldier?" asked her Matt in amazement.
"There’s written money and boyscout right on that pretty face's forehead," she replied smiling. "Don’t worry. No one's going to bother you as long as you fill my glass."
I looked down at my frosty one, then with a quick movement I managed to free my hand. "I'm a teetotaler," I replied before pushing her away with a shove. She looked at me angrily and cursed me in a way I couldn't make out over the din. I resumed scanning the room, to no avail. So while Matt was fooling around I went to the bar, looking for information.
The bartender looked at me crookedly, annoyed by my accent. I called him again with a wave of my hand and let him know I wanted to whisper something in his ear.
"I'm looking for someone," I told him.
"No whores for you Americans," he replied. "You're always making drunken messes and the messes here are worse than in the city. See if you get any independent ones around here."
"Her name is Deena Dumas. You know who I'm talking about?"
"A common name, doesn't ring a bell," he replied evasively.
"Early twenties, about 1.70, slender dark complexion, black hair. Green eyes, very unique. If you've seen her, you know who I'm talking about." I held out a 100 credits card and he took it, pocketing it quickly. "Maybe the name is common, she definitely isn't."
"Of course I know who you're talking about," he said smiling wanly. "Go to the abandoned sports hall down the street. She's a K.C. girl, I don't know if you want to get involved kid. She's a high-end hottie, I don't even think she's for sale. Not to you at least."
"Who said anything about buying?", I retorted and got up from the counter on my way back to Matt. I found him quite busy and almost felt bad to detach him from that girl-remor that was draining him of his mouth.
"Come on you idiot, I've got a lead," I said grabbing him by the collar and dragging him outside.
"No, meanie!" he begged uselessly.
Once outside the club, after another small exchange with the same bouncer as before resolved in the same way, I explained to Matt what I had found.
"This is costing you a fortune. How much have you spent on information and cabs these days?" he asked adjusting the collar of his shirt.
"I can afford it. Now let's go."
"You've seen too many classics."
"Indeed," I reposed, hinting at a smile.
"You're really out of your mind...weed and beer, that's where the money should be thrown, not petty thieves and mobs... Bob besides your arm must have pulverized half your brain too."
As the bartender told me, I followed the road and we arrived in front of an old sports hall converted into a private club. In front of the entrance there were six crunk rockers with glittery hair, afro braids, sequins on their baseball caps and golden sunglasses despite the darkness.
"A gang. Shit, Daith..." hesitated Matt. "They look like badasses."
"Yeah, it's quite a problem," I admitted. "She went to hide from wolves among other wolves. Look," I noted. An aircraft well known to me was parked in front of the entrance with its windows taped up. It had been me the day before who had made them look like that.
"What, what am I looking at?" asked Matt impatiently.
"I know that car. It belongs to the guys who are after the girl. If they're here, maybe we hit the jackpot," I explained, pointing at her with a nod.
"Why aren't they doing anything?"
"For the same reason as us, I guess. Maybe they're waiting for the right time. Let them do the dirty work."
"But there are civilians," Matt recalled. He had a point.
"They're just scum, let them kill each other," I explained coldly. I had a deep contempt for those people, who kept stinking up the cities on Earth and whom I would have gladly sent to the Domains.
Gunfire erupted and the usual commando of mercenaries burst into the K.C. den. I nodded to Matt and we went in, following the trail of bodies those guys were leaving behind. Before going in, though, I fired two shots at the turbines of the commando car to prevent or slow down any escape.
Once inside the Parisian gang's hideout I immediately noticed the chaos made by the mercenaries. A pile of holes in the walls and bodies on the ground indicated their clear passage. "They're good," I commented aloud. "Matt, go back, make an anonymous call to the police, and go back to the hotel."
"Are you sure about...?"
"Of course."
"Really, they sound pretty serious, these guys. Don't you want me to maybe stick around?"
"I don't want to involve you in this part," I explained. "You suck with guns."
"Psycho. Take it back," Matt sighed handing the Walther back to me. "Don't die on me over a fucking game."
"Go, come on," I repeated and pulling the twin weapon from behind my back I set out in search of my longed-for target. I examined the rooms one by one with circumspection and caution. Many of them were empty, while others housed bodies I wouldn't even dream of checking out. I arrived at what appeared to be the gymnasium where basketball or volleyball had been played years before. Now it was covered in a layer of trash, while on the bleachers around it were tables, armchairs, aircraft seats, and burned-out trash cans used as braziers. There was also a huge stereo system. Beyond the playing field, in the corridors that perhaps led to the locker rooms, there was a lot of shooting going on. I didn't dare even think about intruding and looked for a sheltered corner to wait in. The idea was simple: to hope that the commando would succeed and rob him of his prey, or to hope that the two sides would weaken each other to the point of taste.
It was because of the noise of a glass bottle being thrown that I turned my eyes to the right, following a figure that was running along an emergency exit. I didn't have the slightest doubt about who it could be.
Perhaps she had simply been asked or perhaps she was a fearful girl, the fact remains that, not caring about her defenders, she was cutting the rope running at breakneck speed. She was so absorbed in her run that she was not even able to hear my heavy footsteps hitting the asphalt. And this time I had no oppressive armor to weigh me down. I managed to catch up to her.
"Gotcha!", I yelled as soon as I managed to grab her arm. I squeezed hard and enjoyed the moment with deep satisfaction. Satisfaction was followed by a quick and violent slap on the cheek, which the girl instinctively released.
"Let go of me!" she yelled, struggling. She unleashed a fortunately inconclusive kick towards my groin, which forced me to tighten my grip and rotate her wrist, locking it in a lever.
"End of the line," I said struggling to hold her steady.
"She went this way!" someone shouted behind me. I don't know who it was, all I know is that I shot and hit the target. A man at the end of the alley had signaled us before he fell to the ground. Someone was obviously very close to him, in fact I heard another voice say, "Watch out, she's armed." I fired a couple of random shots to which she reacted by screaming, then dragging the girl hard I looked for a place to hide. I ran as fast as I could to the end of the alley and turned left around the corner. No one seemed to see me, so I slipped into an abandoned store, still dragging the girl. There was a door in the back, I opened it, walked through it and closed it again.
"What! You again?" he said suddenly. "Lâche moi!"
"Enough," I scolded her. "Don't make noise!"
"You're hurting me!" she protested because of the grip.
"Choose. Either be quiet, sit down and shut up or I'll tie you up like this and gag you as well!", I proposed.
"Va chier!" she insulted me trying to wriggle out again.
I was not happy to do so, but I went to block her neck between my forearm and the biceps of the arm that held the weapon, to block her airway and voice. Her legs gave out after a few seconds and I gently guided her to the ground.
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The girl opened her eyes, perhaps awakened by the ray of warm light that warmed her face. It had been days since the sun came out of the cloud cloak.
"Where... where am I?" she asked with her eyes half-closed, her head resting on my folded shirt as a pillow.
"A former hardware store, near the arena. The cops arrived a few hours ago," I explained.
She jumped up startled and stood, squaring me from head to toe. "You," she said startled. "Ah," she moaned then holding her neck with her hands.
"Sorry for the choking but I was running out of options. I'm warning you, if you try to run away again, I'll shoot you," I said. Even now I can't tell if I was joking or not.
"Who are you? Why are you following me?" he asked. "You're a pain in the ass!"
It was a good question. I had failed at the Tower. Now I could make up for it. Maybe.
"A pretty useful one. Those mercs were right behind you."
"Was that them again?" she asked, looking around. She hadn't changed clothes since the plunge into the Seine, her pants still partly soiled with dirt. She smelled awful.
"Your friends K.C. fought them off and eventually retreated on their own. These suburban scums are well armed."
"They know their stuff!" praised them Deena. "We don't need cops to defend us here!"
"The K.C.'s are currently barricaded and the FMP is surrounding the gym," I explained. I was actually considering going to them directly and handing it over right then and there. "Their time’s running out."
She stood still and vaguely puzzled for a while. Then, gradually, she took to lowering her gaze. "So, this is it."
"Maybe," I replied without understanding exactly what she was referring to as I continued to look outside.
The girl seemed to consider various options and chose, for a change, not to try to stun me, bite me, or push me into the void. "Let me introduce myself. Deena, Deena Dumas!" she exclaimed as she stood up and approached me, offering me her hand.
"Lieutenant Daith Cillian Lester, cadet at Seattle Military Academy," I replied without stopping to stare impassively out the window. Deena looked at me with a strange look full of perplexity.
"Pleased to meet you, I guess," she said a bit startled, slowly retracting her arm. "You haven't answered me yet. Why are you following me? What am I being accused of? Wait, did you say cadet? Are you a student? Why the hell are you following me?"
I looked at her trying to give myself the definitive answer as well. "Because I was bored," I explained leaving her stunned. "Cause of you I got a head washing as well as several other things against it including an elevator and a sharp rock. Cause no suburban bitch leaves me half dead on the bank of a fucking river. That's why and why now you're giving me a bit of an explanation."
"Were you bored? And why would I give you explanations?" he asked lawfully, crossing his arms.
"Because it's my job to ask questions," I said coldly. "Cause I have a score to raise and with good answers maybe I'll get a good grade. I'm not going to waste the luck I had catching you on the street."
"So you're using me," she noted disgustedly. "And thinking that I was glad I got that bike back, merd."
"Of course I'm using you! I'm trying to turn a problem into an opportunity! Hitting me from behind after I saved you in that tower...what the hell were you thinking? Not that I cared about those assholes but those thug friends of yours just died by the dozens because of you, the FMP would have protected you better than them for sure!"
"Sure, by sending me on a shuttle to Pluto!" she exclaimed furiously. I remained silent without understanding.
"What do you mean?"
"I can't go to the police!"
ns 15.158.61.6da2
