| From: | Kjell Sawyer <sawyer@***.NO> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Topcat's meet with Genocide |
| Date: | Mon, 20 Mar 1995 02:13:31 +0100 |
He was there.
Dismounting his Blitzen, Genocide flicked on his cap and
unzipped his jacket, both fashionably presenting his team the
Portland Marchers. Casually scanning the perimeter, he crossed
the street in a light jog over to the Breaking Point, the bar
where the meet had been agreed to happen.
The Breaking Point seemed like a sports bar of sorts. However,
the clientele were definitely a notch tougher than the crew
encountered at THE Sports Bar downtown. The decor had seen
better days, but the overall personality of the bar was intact,
to Genocide's approval. Most places had become so fragging...
well, synthetic. Like there was some mass conspiracy to do to
bars what stuffer shacks had done to restaurants almost a
century ago.
A light shower had started only seconds earlier, and Gen was
happy to get under a roof before the acid started pouring down
in earnest. He brushed the water off his jacket, hiding a last
check of his weapons' concealability. When he looked up he
immediately spotted his contact.
The Asian Elf was pretty much what he had expected. Average
height and weight, excellent build, and with a mischievously
handsome face, he looked like a guy one could easily make
friends with. Unfortunately, truth rarely turned out to be what
it looked like.
Tossing his hand out for a quick wave, he jandered on over,
concentrating on his body language. Slamming down into the seat
opposite of the guy, he looked as if he was simply meeting a
good friend for some beer. At least that's what Gen hoped he
looked like.
"Hey Topcat, what's happening'?" he said, quickly shooting his
arm out for a handshake. Topcat didn't flinch, but grabbed his
hand calmly. Good, Gen thought. He had met far to many greenies
who were wired so tight they would pop straight through the
fragging roof if you shot them a similar gesture.
"You tell me, chummer." Topcat replied, easing back into a more
comfortable position.
"Sure will," Gen punched back. "Beer?"
"Thanx; Yeah."
Gen caught the waitresses's attention and soon had two mugs of
beer served them. He paid the waitress and dropped a straight
tip - nothing much, but good enough. Within moments, she was
gone.
Genocide took a good, initial swig of his brew, then took a
deep breath for speech.
"What I am about to offer you is somewhat of an undefined job.
I need you to meet a few certain objectives, but I also need you
to be available for further services as new data is revealed.
However, additional services will be along the same line of work
as the initial objectives, and - depending on the threat-level
and/or difficulty - I will at all times be open for
re-negotiation. The pay is 20K up front, and at least an equal
amount upon completion. Medical services will be covered, as
well as cybenetic/bionetic repairs if and only if they were
caused by incidents beyond your control or anticipation."
"In other words, if I screw up, I pay my own repairs?"
"Correct," Gen said, taking another swig of his beer.
"Who'll I be up against?" Topcat asked. A good question,
unfortunately the only one Gen really couldn't really answer.
"That, my dear Topcat, is one of your primary objectives to
find out."
"Excuse me?" Topcat said, not sure he got that right. Genocide
let out a soft chuckle.
"I am currently operating towards an objective from three
angles. I need you to fill a gap from a fourth angle: That is
finding out whose behind all this drek."
"What drek?"
"I couldn't tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," Gen said
jokingly.
Ignoring the humor, Topcat swore under his breath. The more
complicated the run, the more he felt like a pawn, and the less
he liked it. Unfortunately, the money was good.
"What is the duration of this operation?"
"Expected duration is about to the end of this week.
Unfortunately, it might stretch. As I said, in such a case we
will re-negotiate terms of payment."
"And what will the payment be in?" Topcat asked. Last thing he
needed now was about 50K in some fragging corporate script.
"A bank account will be opened, and you will be given a false
silver credstick for access. After this run, you may keep the
credstick as a bonus."
"How old is it?" Topcat asked suspiciously.
"It was created solely for the purpose of you payment." Gen
replied calmly, anticipating the next question.
"And if I decline your offer?"
"Well," Gen said, with a wry smile. "I guess I'll just have to
fine another Asian Elf of your build to take the job, then."
Topcat shook his head, but couldn't suppress a smile. However,
he almost felt like saying no just to show this Gen character he
shouldn't trust other's willingness to work for him so far.
"Any other information available to me before I make a
decision?"
"Unfortunately; No." Genocide replied, lifting his cap off and
brushing his crew-cut.
Topcat let off a sigh. He hated it when it came down to
instinct. From what Gen had given him, the job could range from
anything to the far side of that anything. Genocide himself
seemed cool enough, but then again so had that Tir flight
attendant who trapped him last year. Good thing Katz hadn't
heard that story, he thought. He'd bet his wire she'd get that
all wrong.
"Yeah, okay, I'm in. What's the deal?" The words were out
before he knew it. This was the moment he hated the most.
Knowing he had accepted, but on the flip side not quite knowing
what he had accepted to.
"I want you to set up surveillance around this person," Gen
said, handing him a picture of a stunningly beautiful Elven
woman.
"Oh, great..." Topcat moaned. Gen looked up at him, expecting
some kind of trouble.
"What?"
"My girlfriend is going to love this."
Genocide couldn't help but laugh.
"Don't worry, it will not be for long. You see; She's only a
red herring."
Topcat looked up from the picture. "Uh-huh?"
"Yeah," Gen continued. "However; it is crucial that we let
people know that we are on to her."
"So I just hang around this slitch..."
"No. You don't," Gen interupted, "another team will. You are
simply going to set up the surveillance. I know you might expect
that to be something anyone else could do, but here style is
important. For instance, I believe they would recognise mine."
Oh really? Topcat thought. Well, if you say so.
"Then I want you to set up a counter-counter surveillance trap
to ID anyone creeping up on that team."
Counter-counter surveillance? Topcat thought. Talk about making
something that crazy tough sound like child's play.
"Then what?"
"That's it, until we figure out who we are dealing with..."
Genocide suddenly froze, as if listening to something.
"What?" Topcat asked, an edge of worry in his voice.
"Damn, we've got compa..."
His words were cut clean off as all the front windows exploded
in shattering glass. A woman's scream mingled with the
clattering glass, then gunfire and voices of people hitting the
deck took over.
"Fade!" Gen yelled at Topcat, tossing him a small black object.
Topcat caught it, and identified it has a palmphone.
"I'll contact you!"
More gunfire erupted outside, and Topcat suddenly noticed a SMG
in Genocide's hand. Deciding this was Gen's show, Topcat figured
he better do as told. Retrieving his own piece, he made for the
back.
Heart throbbing, he rushed through the kitchen, were a few
people were standing around dumbfounded, and burst through the
back door, diving into a forward roll. He almost expected a rain
of bullets, but the only sound was shouting form the front of
the bar, mixed with automatic weapons' fire.
Turning left, he sprinted towards where he had parked his bike.
He rounded the corner top speed and rolled into cover. The
street in front of the bar had turned into a war-zone, and there
were at least four positions besides what seemed to be Gen in
the bar where guns where acting.
About as fast as Topcat had seen any elf move, Gen broke cover
and sprinted. Suddenly, he popped to the side, dodging a bullet,
and fired off blindly three times behind him, towards the roof
of a neighbouring building.
Topcat couldn't see if Gen hit anything, but there was
something eerie about the confidence displayed in the shots.
Something almost familiar, yet pushed to an extreme.
Seconds later Gen was history, gunning out of there on his huge
bike, and Topcat could swear he saw others breaking away and
leaving the area.
Deciding enough was enough, he mounted up and made it out of
there on the double.
Hitting I-5 a few minutes later, Topcat wondered why Gen had
gone along with the meet if he expected an ambush so seriously
that he had brought in another team for cover. A set-up?
Probably, but in whose favour?
Shaking his head as if to sort out the details, Topcat wondered
what he had got himself into.
