The next two jobs were shit as well. The first was supposedly just tracking…but it ended as beating the crap out of a thief. I had to chase the little shit through a crumbling and deserted factory to get back some stolen gear, and the entire time he was shouting abuse while his friends looked on and laughed.
I was getting a lot more practice with my mods, but I was lathered in sweat when I finally cornered the bastard and got my hands on him.
Next was a missing kid—finding him took all of the next three hours, and I got paid ten credits. He’d been stoned to fuck in a char den. It was a shitty place to be, literally. Char addicts tended to lose control of their bowels, so anyone who ran such a place made people wear giant diapers, which, in turn, made the whole thing that little bit more hilarious for the people I passed with the skinny little shit thrown over one shoulder.
Dumping him on his parents’ front door resulted in them giving me a lecture, as if I were somehow to blame for the state of their son, who proceeded to drool and shit himself the entire time the mother complained.
I offered to “solve” their problems and got paid the ten credits, after none too subtly resting my hand on the butt of my handgun.
The fourth and final job of the day, for another measly thirty credits, was a bug hunt.
Some dumb fuck had bought a lanton as a pet. Gods alone knew why—they were ugly as sin and blind, spending their lives burrowing around underground, eating crops, and, when they got the chance, farmers as well.
This dumb fuck had apparently decided it made him “cool and interesting” to have such a weird pet. Then it’d tried to maul him, and had escaped into the nearby streets.
Considering that lantons were asexual, set up nests, then grew to over a meter in size, and liked to chew on certain specific and fucking expensive metals used in the power cables that ran everywhere in the city?
They were banned from the city and miles around on exactly the grounds that this dipshit was now worried about: that they’d get loose, breed, and be almost impossible to root out without doing massive damage to the local network and costing tens of thousands of credits in damages, not to mention the fines.
He tried to claim it’d be an easy job, and that he wanted it “set free” beyond the city walls, and was willing to pay five credits. The agreed upon price, with Gunther, was thirty. Well, one good turn deserves another, I decided, after turning to walk away, and forcing him to agree to the thirty.
I set it free, all right—free of this mortal fuckin’ coil. No chance was I leaving it alive to breed.
Then I bagged up the corpse and took it back to him, slamming it down on his table, and pointed out the empty egg sacs.
“It’s laid eggs already,” I lied. “I’ll need to report this, because it’d take me hours, maybe days to find all the eggs, and the enforcers will need to clear this whole area…”
“No!” he squeaked, panicked. “They’ll blame me!”
“That’s because it’s your fuckin’ fault!” I snapped, glaring at him, seeing the panic and disbelief that this was happening to him in his eyes.
“But…but…you could find them, right?”
“I could, maybe,” I admitted. “But why the hell would I? You already tried to rip me off!”
“No!”
“Five fucking credits,” I growled. “The deal was thirty, and you tried to lie and get me to do your dirty work for five?”
“I’ll pay!” he promised, nodding. “I’ll pay the thirty!”
“You’re damn right you will!” I snarled. “The thirty that you’ll pay me right now is for this fucker! You want me to find the others? You want me to crawl through the gutters and the underside of the fucking city, to risk specters and fuck knows what, crawling through shit for maybe days? You’ll damn well pay me a fuckload more!”
“How…how much?” he whispered, licking his lips, clearly terrified and desperate.
“Four hundred!” I demanded, expecting to be bargained down to a lot less, but hey, I was scamming him anyway.
“Uh…uh…Okay? I’ve not got much now, but I’d owe you…”
“No,” I said flatly, pointing at the full immersion rig in the corner of his room. “You want me to do this on a promise of payment? I’m taking that until you pay up.”
“No!” He gasped. His pasty face went white as he shook his head, scraggly ponytail flapping and bouncing off his filthy clothes.
“Pay me my thirty, and I’m out of here.” I put my right hand on my gun’s grip to make my position exceedingly clear.
“You don’t understand! That took years of saving to get! It’s almost brand-new, three thousand credits!”
“How many eggs do you think were in that fucker?” I nodded at the corpse. “A hundred? Two? You get fined per beast, remember…fifty a pop, isn’t it?” I shrugged.
“I don’t have that…” he whispered. “I…I don’t have the thirty, but I can get it! And another hundred! You kill them, make sure they’re all dead, or, or just that nobody can trace them to me? I’ll give you it!”
“You don’t have the thirty?” I asked him slowly.
“N…no…”
“Three thousand you said?” I nodded, shoving him aside, and stomped across the floor to where his entertainment rig was plugged into the wall.
“Please!” He whimpered as I started to disconnect it from the wall.
“You want it back? You pay Gunther a hundred, plus whatever fees he puts on it.” I unplugged it from the chair and folded the arms down. “That’s for wasting my fucking time.”
It was a standard entertainment rig—basically a glorified virtual reality package—but rather than your implants projecting it in your mind, this would physically touch you at the same time.
The matching upgrade to your implants would make the caress of the steel rollers feel like anything from a massage to a fucking hand job, and although, yeah, these kits were sold for gamers, they were primarily used for porn.
I disconnected the groin attachment and dumped it on the floor. I knew exactly what that was used for, and I didn’t need the fucker pressed against me when I was carrying it.
With that disconnected, and the power leads and so on pulled, the entire form began to fold automatically.
It was designed to be laid over a bed or a long chair, ridged layers that you laid atop of, and a dozen small arms on the sides that moved to simulate pressure and impacts.
It was a hell of a kit, but looking around the room it was in?
He’d have done better spending the money on literally anything else.
His apartment wasn’t much bigger than mine, and it was far dirtier and smellier, with discarded food containers, filthy piles of clothes and worse strewn about.
“Please!” he begged, and I turned to him, pausing.
“You want me to give up possibly days of my time, risk my life to pull you out of the shit. You put out a job that you couldn’t afford to pay for, and you knew it. Now you want me to let you off? That about it?”
“But…I’ll pay you back…” he promised, nodding. “You’ll see…”
“You already tried to rip me off twice. I’m taking this, that’s a given. You’ve got a choice, though.”
“What?”
“Do you want me to take care of the eggs? Make sure they’re all dead?”
“YES!”
“If I don’t, you know this will cost you tens of thousands? That the enforcers will come for you? They’ll take this. They’ll not even take it against your debt—they’ll just keep it, and you know that.”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“I know.”
“This is the deal. You get a week. I’ll kill them all, make sure it’s done, but this goes with me now. You’ll pay Gunther four hundred credits, plus whatever he charges as a fee for holding this. You want it back? You want me to risk myself? That’s how this happens. Otherwise, you just tried to rip me off, and wasted my time. This is going with me, regardless. This way, at least you know that the enforcers won’t be coming for you, and you’ve got a week to buy this back.”
“I…”
“Say you agree,” I ordered him, and he swallowed hard, then nodded slowly.
“I agree.”
“Good boy.” I grunted, grabbing the transport box for the kit and sliding it in, sealing it up, and heading for the door.
“You can leave it here…while you hunt them…” he tried, and I glared at him.
“If I did that, you’d hide it,” I pointed out, seeing the flinch in his eyes, the way he tried to conceal that he’d been planning exactly that. “Then, I’d kill you.” I drew the handgun out of the holster slowly. “Do you really want to try to annoy me again?”
“No.”
“Wise, that.”
An hour later, Gunther was wrinkling his nose at the smell of me, while plugging in the rig, running diagnostic tests.
“You need to shower before you come to see me next time,” he grumbled.
“You need to make sure these fuckers can afford to pay me before you take the job,” I countered. “I’m stinking because I spent an hour in a fucking sewer hunting a goddamn lanton nest.”
“You think you’ll be able to find the eggs it laid?” he asked, squinting as he read the specs for the rig from his personal interface.
“I took the eggs out and squashed them.” I shrugged. “I was going to try to get a bit more out of him after he tried to rip me on paying only five credits, but then finding he didn’t even have the thirty? Nah. I gave him a week to pony up four hundred, plus whatever fees you charge for holding onto this and handling it.”
“And you what? Want me to sell this when he can’t afford it?” he asked, and I nodded. “Fair enough. Maybe get eight hundred creds, but most of my buyers won’t be interested…” He paused, scratching his chin. “You need the credits, or you want barter?”
“Both,” I said. “Give me a hundred now, and the rest against stock.”
“It might take me months to sell this.”
“It’ll take you an hour. You said yourself it’s worth eight hundred. Give me half, a hundred upfront and store credit for the rest. We both know you jack these prices up.” I grinned.
“Ah, lad, if only you could bargain as hard as you fight.” He shook his head. “I’ll do it, but only because I know you need the money. You owe me, though.”
“This for old time’s sake?” I asked, and he snorted, shaking his head.
“You accept the deal?”
“Aye.”
“Here.” He knocked on my Keystone.
I approved the transfer. The hundred credits slid into my account as I nodded my thanks.
“Now that’s done, and everyone’s happy, I’ll tell you the truth, lad. Yeah, you’re right. I’ll have this sold inside the hour. Already got a kid interested for nineteen hundred. So, take some advice—learn to bargain and what things are worth before you go looking to replace those mods, or you’ll be in debt for the rest of your life.”
“Nineteen…Fuck.” I groaned. “You’re bullshitting me, right?”
He grinned. “Nope.”
“I’m keeping your share of the jobs,” I grumbled, and he snorted.
“Oh no, whatever will I do? I’m losing, what? Thirty credits?” he responded sarcastically, shaking his head.
“Asshole.”
“Amateur.”
“And I’m taking a goddamn change of clothes. Army surplus, and you’re giving me them free!”
“Fuck’s sake, Harry.” He sighed, tapping the release and folding the rig back up into its box. “Okay, look. That kid’s almost certainly never gonna be able to buy this kit back, but hey. You gave him a week. You want me to hold it, or you want me to sell it on now?”
“You got a buyer already?” I asked, and he nodded.
“He just responded. Damn, that was fast, but hey. I’ll give you the change of clothes, and you can leave that shit you’re wearing here. I’ll process it and dispose. In return, you deliver the kit for me on your way home, deal?”
“All right.” I sighed, before standing again and moving through the store, searching. My new clothes were free, as he said, but he’d be pissed at me if I chose only the most expensive. Besides, in the real world, expensive didn’t always equate to valuable.
The store was ten meters across, and thirty long, with racks on the side walls, suspended gear from the ceiling and concealing netting to add to the military ambiance.
Dotted around here and there were dozens of circular stands, holding everything from packs of grain and energy bars, to racks of different sized trousers and tops. Rows held boots in every size, and I moved quickly, grabbing a pair of combat boots, fresh gloves, reinforced trousers with additional armoring on the knees, thighs, and shins, and a temperature-regulating top.
I kept the body armor I’d already been wearing—it’d been under the jacket so it hadn’t been fouled, thankfully—and the replacement jacket was plain black, additional armoring included here and there.
“Good choices.” Gunther approved. “I should have set a limit on the cost…”
“Don’t get greedy, you old fart.” I grunted, laying them on the table and letting him check them over.
“Okay, so you’ve got three hundred in credit with me. What you looking for?”
“Decent glasses rather than these shitty goggles. I need to fucking see and upgrade my mod.”
“Model?”
“Mil-spec. I need to augment my chip with them,” I suggested, referring to my brain augment, and he snorted.
“That’d run you a lot more than your damn credit. You got tier one, right?”
“Yeah…”
“With your RI in there, that’s gonna be taking up all its capacity, just about. Glasses that’d connect, and that your RI could spread out into, would run you about three thousand. If you’re seriously looking at that as your next proper purchase? I’d say go full helm instead. You’re looking at about five thousand, but it’d give you vision options, hide your ugly mug, and provide armoring.”
“Yeah,” I agreed ruefully. “I figured. I’m gonna be going full merc kit-out in the next month, get as much earned as I can, then I can start taking real jobs for real money.”
“Well, you’ve got, what? A hundred and fifty?”
“Hundred and seventy-three. Train and lunch outta the day as well.”
“Man, that’s pathetic.” He snorted. “Fine, I’ll spot you fifty creds to get you to registration, but you owe me that…You sell me your loot for the next week—deal?”
“Deal.” I forced a smile, hating that I was reduced to this, then cursing and reaching in my bag as I remembered something. “Fuck, I forgot all about this. I grabbed these from Hector…”
Laying the three boxes of drugs on the counter, I looked to Gunther hopefully, gritting my teeth when he opened them, then shook his head, sliding them back to me.
“Not something I can move. Not at any price that’s worth the risk, anyway.”
“Thanks anyway.” I nodded to him, before using his facilities, washing and changing quickly. I dumped the filthy clothing in a bag on his desk, grabbed the boxed-up rig, and headed back out the door.
Two hours later, a trip into the north of the city to drop the rig off and one back to the apartment to find the gang, I went to the merc guild.
This time, fortunately the gang was “in,” and I got curious looks as I arrived on the floor, before they ignored me again. I stepped out and turned directly to face the gang leader’s shadowy nook.
He was there, sprawled on a large three-seater with a blonde woman—half-elf, judging from the ears—half draped across his lap.
He was in a conversation with another resident when I stepped up, and he waved me to wait, continuing like a king holding court.
“Sit there,” one of the gangers ordered me, sneering.
“Fine.” I forced myself to behave, sitting and waiting, as they talked, something about a debt being owed, and respect, before a handful of credits changed hands, and the resident moved off.
“So…you come looking for work?” the half-orc called, and I smiled, standing and striding forward. “You look like you’re doing a bit better than when you first arrived.”
“I’m not looking for work…” I started, before pausing. “At least, I don’t think you’d have work I need. For the right price, though? I’ll listen.”
“Lookie here!” one of the gang called, laughing. “New boy thinks he’s better than us, huh?”
“I think I’d kill most of you without even noticing,” I corrected, shooting him a glance. “That’s not why I’m here, though.”
“So?” the half-orc asked curiously. “What do you want?”
“You think you can find me a buyer for this?” I took the first container of drugs out of my bag and handed it over.
He took it, cracked the lid, and looked it over, glancing at me.
“Where’d you get this?”
“Took it off a ganger who annoyed me.”
“This all you got?”
“These two as well.” I took them out and passed them over.
“That it?”
I nodded and he turned to the woman, who’d sat up and was suddenly much more interested. “What grade?” he asked her.
She opened each of the boxes, checking them with a finger dipped in, and rubbed across her lips for the angel dust. Her eyes lit with a bright-red artificial glow as she assessed them.
“Dust is third grade, not badly cut, but weak. The char is good…the skiff is trash,” she said, before shuddering as the dust took hold. “Check that…” She gasped, blinking as the red faded, her natural blue returning. “Second grade. Took awhile to hit.”
“I can move this,” the half-orc grunted. “You getting more?”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I admitted. “If we do a good price, though, any I come across I’ll bring to you.”
“I’ll do thirty creds a box,” he offered, then smiled as I glared at him, laying my right hand on my gun grip and reaching out to take the boxes back. “All right, thirty each for the angel. Char, I’ll do fifteen each. Skiff? You can keep.”
“One thirty-five?” I asked, hesitating. “Call it one fifty, and you can do whatever you want with the skiff.”
“One forty.”
“You have something to do with managing the floor?” I guessed, and he shrugged. “One forty, and you get me unlimited water rations.”
“Unlimited?” His eyebrows crept upward.
“I like a long shower. For some reason, I keep coming back covered in other people’s blood. It takes awhile to scrub off.”
“Lots of blood?” he asked, and I shrugged. “What you do in the army?”
“APS operator.”
“Shit, really?” he asked, as low whistles broke out around the group. “Guess you didn’t invest, huh? Regretting that yet?”
“No, I did,” I said with a forced smile. “When my mods are back up to speed? I’ll be taking my armor back.”
“Shit.” He grunted again, looking at me with new eyes. “Why’d they stick you with that?” He nodded to my arm.
“Accident,” I replied, not wanting to go into it. “That’s why I’m here, but not for long.”
“You registered with the mercs?”
“Heading there once we’re done,” I said, getting a nod from him.
“I’m Lucky.” He paused, looking at me.
“Kabutt,” I offered after a second, realizing it was his fucking name. “Harry Kabutt.”
“You got a problem working with orcs, Kabutt?”
“Do I look like I’ve got a problem?” I quirked an eyebrow at him.
“I’m a half-breed…” He shrugged. “Most don’t like full-bloods.”
“I served with some. Damn brave.”
“Fair enough.” He grunted. “You need a good mod? You come to me, I’ll send you to the right guy.”
“An orc carver?” I asked, surprised, and he snorted.
“He doesn’t need to do that shit himself. He provides the mods and he’s got a few people in his team who fit them. Maybe you’ll find a price better than the usual chop shops.”
“I’ll remember. And yeah, I’ll need someone. So?”
“One forty and no lockout on the water.” He smiled and knocked on my Keystone as his partner made the containers vanish.
“Pleasure doin’ business.” I nodded, taking the money and making a note of his ident just in case, before turning back to the lift. The gang moved out of my way quicker now, and without looking to the boss first.
The fear in their eyes made me feel a hell of a lot better.