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22 - A Promise To Murder

22 - A Promise To Murder

The Void - Relentless Desire

I float in a void of desire. Mean little emotions. Voices that feel small, lonely, lost, or jealous.

What do they want?

I dunno.

What do they want?

I dunno. Sex? Crypto? A fight? To win a fight? To win at anything?

What do they want… want… want…

My eyes snap open. I’m in a sleep tube. Jesus, these things are weird.

It creaks open. A chromium bombshell smiles in. “Morning, sunshine. I got your new threads.”

“Excellent.” I pop up, and strip naked in the alley. Volt hands over my new dazzle suit. It’s formal evening wear - jacket, pants, shoes, and gloves - very classy. Stark black and white in a blocky non-pattern that would give M.C. Esher a migraine.

After I slip into it, she gives me a huge asymmetric pair of shades. Very wonky. Zero lines parallel or perpendicular. All together, it’s a powerful fashion statement. I look like a bisexual assassin from a technocratic chaocracy. Sent back in time to kill Elton John. Or suck his dick. Orders are unclear. He’s getting finished off one way or the other.

I look good.

Which is nice, but it’s just a side effect. I turn to Volt. “What do you think?”

“You’re fucking gone, man.”

Encouraging. But Volt’s biased by her knowledge of the desired outcome. I’ll have to test it in the field against a natural control group. Within minutes I’m before my most pernicious adversary.

“One cheezy coffee please.”

The barista bot flinches. “Who said that?”

Jackpot. I laugh maniacally and snatch a random coffee from its hands. I’m invisible. Yet another excellent invention from my dreams. I should sleep more. My mirth lasts until I take a sip of my caffeinated loot. Is this sour cream and onion coffee? Why?

“You’re finally figuring shit out.” says a gruff voice from behind me.

A figure lounges near the back of the outdoor cafe. He’s dressed in a tattered black cloak that masks his features and mocks our sunny surroundings. There’s hints of flannel and denim through the distressed robes. Altogether, he looks like a cowboy grim reaper. Come to collect the souls of those that lost their herds.

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“Heard you were looking for me.” says the last and most dangerous of the Wills Brothers.

Well shit. I need to talk to Willard, but I wasn’t expecting him to sneak up on me. Or be able to. Annoying and terrifying. On brand, I guess.

What do I say here? I need a favor, but now I’m flustered. I remember he doesn’t like me. Fuck. He gets visibly impatient. Glaring at me with murder in his eyes. Better say something.

“I know who has your brother.”

“Who gives a fuck. Liam’s a big boy, he can take care of himself. What do you want?”

“Uh… I need a favor.”

“No.”

Huh. That was definite. Do I leave now?

Willard stares into my eyes. “Have you updated your threat detectors?”

“Yes.” Kinda. In my dreams.

He grunts and flips a large bag of crypto on the table. “I’ll take them.”

I cringe at the sight of all that crypto. This is going to end badly. Why does he even want new threat detectors? Unless…

“I take it you can’t find Big Cheddar.”

He stares at me silently. But looks slightly less impatient. That’s encouraging.

I gesture towards the fireworks overhead. “What’s that? The seventh day of drone war? Big Cheddar sure isn’t winning, but he ain’t losing either. Because you can’t find him, or his drone factories.

“Well, you won’t find him with a better threat detector. Liam already tried that. It just brought Champion down on his ass. There’s some kind of gatekeeping going on. An air gap. Anything that should bring out Big Cheddar, gets you to Champion instead. Makes sense I guess. Dealing with Big Cheddar’s enemies is sort of his job.

“I wonder what would shake loose if Champion was eliminated? Or replaced…”

Willard looks to the horizon. To the huge, temporary, arena between the Cheddardrome and the Immobile Market. “You think I should enter the tournament.”

“Uh, not really. Killing Champion is almost impossible. It’d be smarter to ambush him before the tournament. Then we can use whoever wins the tournament to smoke out Cheddar.”

Willard’s eyes narrow. “You don’t think I can take him?”

“Uh, it’s not just the Champion bot. He has his own skydrones. We have to find their factories and blow them up before we’d have any chance against him.”

Willard thinks for a long moment. Finally, he sniffs dismissively. “Well, you may be right about the need to kill Champion. But I reckon he ain’t that tough.”

There’s a long line of explosions south of the Cheddardrome.

“See, I found the skydrone factories a while ago. Coulda blown them anytime, but they were costing Cheddar a fortune, and gaining him nothing. Didn’t see fit to correct his mistake. Didn’t want him to start over with cheaper drones that could win a fair fight.

“But that don’t matter anymore, right? Cause you’ve got a plan to smoke him out in two days.”

Willard stands, looks down at me gravely. “See you at the tournament.”

He strides away, presumably to spread terror elsewhere. Volt scootches into his vacant seat. “My threat detectors are red lining.”

“Yep.” I sigh. “Sounds about right.”