After I left Sawada’s I went back to my new place quick as I could. I had an appointment to make. Once I got there I changed into baggy exercise shorts and sneakers, threw a flashlight on a lanyard around my neck and went right out the door. In an effort to clear my head I decided to jog to my destination. Willy’s place was in Fifth Ward, to the west where K, R, and D met. That made it two or three miles from my building. I’d been slacking on my exercise, lately, but surely that wouldn’t be too bad.
I was out of breath in less than five minutes. The panting was so bad that even at my size I was a juicy target for muggers- or I would be if I didn’t have the coilgun strapped to my chest. I kept the pace moderate through Central Ward, pushed it through the grimy, ill-lit streets of Vatburg and metered down again until I arrived at Willy’s place. It was near the northern end of Fifth Ward, only a few blocks up from Kwan et Moliere’s where Dezi’d taken me shopping for clothes.
His building was a good-size tower block, twenty or so stories of sharp brutalist concrete. Flexible strips of transparent plastic dangled from the roofline almost to the ground, meant to keep acid rain off the cement. Some were painted with Dakessar symbols, others threaded with Kestite prayer flags. I wondered how well they got along with both religions in the same building- they generally agreed on their theological history, just not who the good and bad guys were.
Pushing into the lobby, I immediately caught the eye of the surly-looking guard standing by the elevators. His hand drifted toward the pump shotgun slung across his chest, then froze as he clocked my gang marks. I gave him a nod- he was only doing his job, after all- then went to the intercom board and hit the button for the apartment number Walker gave me. It was one of only three on the top floor. A penthouse, huh? I thought. Maybe that’s what he did with all Walker’s deng.
The reply was almost immediate. “Yes?”
“It’s Sharkie. Walker called you about-“
“Sharkie!” Willy sounded excited. “Come on up! I’ll buzz you in.”
“Sure, uh, see you in a sec.”
The guard stepped out of the way and watched me nervously as I walked across the expanse of dirty faux-marble floor to the elevator and hit the call button. There was an awkward silence as I waited for the thing to show up. He kept staring at me while trying really hard to seem like he wasn’t. It made me embarrassed for both of us.
“I’m just here to see a friend, man. Not for anything, um, business-related.” He sagged visibly as the tension went out of him. The relief on his face made me realize how young he was, probably younger than me.
“Oh. Good, that’s good,” he said, brushing a lock of lank brown hair out of his face. “Uh, as a rule we don’t allow members of violent groups in here, but...“
But there was no way the building owners could actually enforce that, he meant. ‘Violent group’ was the term Admin propaganda broadcast used for gangs like the Holy Bones and Blue Division, but people in D-block just called them by their names. I almost laughed hearing the kid use it.
The elevator finally arrived. “Thanks for letting me sneak in,” I told the guard before the doors shut. The car moved upward so slowly I wondered if I was overloading it. Finally it wheezed to a stop, the doors sliding open to reveal a hallway rather nicer than the lobby downstairs. The walls were painted a deep gold, the floor covered in red carpet with only a few cigarette smudges. Gaudy, but still kind of nice. I found Willy’s door, and the maglock clacked open before I got the chance to knock. Cameras, I guess. “Come on in, Sharkie!” called a muffled voice from within. “I’m at the end of the hall.”
I did as instructed, closing the door behind me. The door opened onto a narrow hallway, much better furnished than outside. The floor was either matte-finished wood or a very good imitation, the walls a pleasant blue-gray that reminded me of stainless-steel refrigerators. Light came from recessed bulbs in the ceiling. I followed the hall backwards, passing doors that led into bedrooms and a big living room. There were paintings on the walls, weird semi-abstract renditions of skylines and human figures and tables covered in junk. Art. It wasn’t the kind of thing I expected to see in D-block. No movie posters here.
At the end of the hall, bright light streamed through an open door. I headed through and stopped dead. “Whoa.” Willy had a whole miniature gym built into his apartment. He had a bench and a squat cage, whole racks of plates and dumbbells, one of those fancy electronic resistance machines, and plenty of other equipment. The man himself was currently inside the centerpiece: a fighting ring complete with ropes. Smaller than a regulation one, but still. He was fighting some kind of hologram, a featureless human of dull blue light that lashed out with jabs and knees. It was like shadowboxing, but the shadow had a mind of its own. I admired how cool that was for about a second, until I looked closer at Willy and started admiring him instead.
When he’d rescued Walker, Fidi, and I from that Blue Div ambush, he’d been masked up head to toe. Now he wore nothing but black trunks and sweat, and...Wow was all I could think. He was just under six feet and probably a couple years older than me, with skin the color of stained mahogany. Toned muscle covered him, though he wasn’t as bulky as I was. Except for a close-shaved black mohawk I didn’t see a speck of hair on him. His face was probaby the handsomest I’d ever seen, with high cheekbones and intense eyes of a weird, pale hazel color. It was the face of a prince out of one of my trashy fantasy novels. Or maybe a prince-consort. Overall he was enough to make me reconsider the theory that I was more into girls. I really confused myself sometimes.
The poor guy must have noticed me looking, for he did something to shut off the holographic opponent and vaulted the ropes to meet me. Sauntering up, he smiled and met my eyes.
And kept standing there, just staring at me for about ten seconds.
“...What are you doing?” I finally asked.
“Hm? Oh, I thought we were playing the ‘stare silently at one another’ game.” His youthful, easygoing voice belied his appearance. “I’m trying to catch up.”
I glanced at the floor, embarrassed. “Shit. Sorry. It’s just, you look like you should be modeling underwear or something.” I clapped a hand over my mouth. “Hell! I said that out loud.”
Willy laughed, hands on his hips. “I do, actually. See?” He waved at a few picture frames on the wall. Indeed, they contained what looked like magazine ads showing a scantily- dressed Willy making bedroom eyes at the camera
“Oh. Seriously? I thought you were a mercenary or something. And really. Sorry for creeping.”
“I’m a man of many talents- plus, doing the same thing every day would get boring. And it’s fine, jo-san. I wanted a look at you, too. When you aren’t covered in blood and dirt, I mean. You’re very striking.”
“Nice of you to put it that way,” I said warily.
“No, really.” He put a hand to his chin, appraising. “You’ve a very interesting look.”
"In a good way?”
“Interesting is always good. Oh, but I’ve been rude!” He stuck out a hand. “Wiremu Dahanno. Willy’s fine.” he said with a broad grin on his face. “And you’re Sharkie. Good to meet you under better circumstances.”
That wasn’t hard, considering last time I’d been beat to shit with a hole in my side. “Same.” I shook his hand. “Too bad Walker ruined your date, though.”
He waved that away. “Oh, my Seryosha was very understanding. Especially after I took him out to the Broken Crown on Clyde’s dime!” He laughed again, and I let out a low whistle. The Broken Crown was the nicest club in Blisstown, fancier even than anything they had in Parkside. Getting in was neither easy nor cheap. It made me think of Sawada. Clubbing definitely wasn’t his thing, but I ought to do something nice for him. I had a few ideas already.
“So, Sharkie.” Willy put his hands on his hips. “Clyde tells me you want some close- quarters training.”
“Right.”
“Perfect. You have any formal education in that kind of thing? And ‘the school of the streets’ doesn’t count.”
“People actually tell you that?” I laughed. “But the answer’s yes. My dad taught me some Sistema-4. Wouldn’t say I’m an expert or anything, though.”
He made an impressed noise. “Now that’s even more interesting. How’d your father come to know Sistema?”
“He helped out a Sovman, once. Took lessons as payment.”
“I’m sure there’s an interesting story there. For now, though, let’s spar! We need to know what we’re working with, right?” With that, he hopped back into the ring. I took off my shoes and socks and gun, then followed. The floor felt soft, weirdly springy.
“I’m not gonna break this thing, am I?”
"Nope! You ready?”
I nodded, and we began. We started out moving in slow-motion, the way you would when learning new moves, but gradually we picked up the pace until I was going almost full tilt. Willy, though, was still frustratingly relaxed. My jabs were slipped or redirected, and my elbows hit only thin air. A close-in knee strike got deflected almost contemptuously. I went for a couple grapples, but I was sorely out of practice and he slipped out of my grasp before I could get secure. He threw out a few punches of his own, but they were lazy, easily blocked or avoided. Finally I got frustrated, snapped out a kick at his knee that was nearly full power. Moving like water, he slid inward, hooked my leg upward with his own, and used both hands to throw me off balance. The world spun and my back smashed into the mat hard enough to blow the wind out of me.
“Not bad, Sharkie, not bad at all!” said Willy as I peeled myself off the mat and stood.
"Really?” I wheezed, trying to catch my breath. “Feels like I just got run over.”
“Really. I don’t have much experience against Sistema-4, but I think it suits you. As a martial art, it’s efficient, brutal, and utterly unconcerned with the welfare of the opponent.”
“Kings, Willy, you really know how to make a girl feel special.”
“Don’t get too excited. I don’t date clients. Now, for what could use improvement. First of all, Sharkie, you’ve fallen into the same trap as do many other physically impressive fighters.”
“Relying on my size?”
“Exactly!” He jabbed a finger at me, smiling. “You’re used to getting by on strength, reach, and sheer intimidation. Backed up with technique, that’s all you’ve probably needed to finish most of your fights. From what Clyde’s been saying, though, you’re moving up in the world pretty quickly. You’re going to be dealing with enemies who know what they’re doing.”
“And just being big and strong won’t be enough,” I finished for him.
“Well, it’ll still give you an edge. I know I wouldn’t want to meet you in a dark alley- but that’s what I’m getting at, yeah. So let’s practice!”
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The next hour or two I spent in the ring. Willy had a very practical teaching method. We spent most of the time sparring until he spotted a mistake or got me on the ground again. Occasionally he’d shout out pieces of advice:
“You’re overextending! Not every strike has to be max power!”
“Stop backing up! Are you afraid of me? Get in my face!”
“That’s the third time I caught your leg like that! Get it out of the way faster.” That last one came immediately after I was catapulted into the mat once again. I rolled over onto my hands and knees, wheezing. I hated being thrown. The sudden disorientation and loss of control was viscerally upsetting.
“You’re getting better already, Sharkie, but I’m beginning to notice a distinct gap in your practice.” Willy spoke from somewhere above me, barely sounding out of breath.
“T-throws?” I managed.
“That’s right. You’re so big and strong that anyone with a brain is going to try and use it against you. It also means they won’t expect you to do the same to them. Now, I know Sistema-4 is just full of grappling techniques-“
“I’m out of practice. I know.” I managed to regain my feet.
“-so let’s finish out today by practicing some of those.” He smiled at me in a way that let me know I’d be leaving in even worse shape. “I’ll throw you, then you’ll throw me. Get used to how it feels, and then we’ll concentrate on avoidance.”
“Can’t we just skip to the second part?”
He shook his head. “Hope for the best but prepare for the worst, isn’t that what they say? Now let’s go.”
An hour later I was on my back again, surprised I could still breathe. And that there wasn’t a Sharkie-shaped hole through the floor of the ring. Willy offered me a hand and I took it so he could help me up. “Well,” he said between breaths, “I think that’s enough for today. Illuminating, wasn’t it?”
“Why are you breathing so hard?” I asked, only half joking. “I’m the one getting tossed around like a fuckin’ ragdoll.”
“Ah, how to put this delicately...you’re heavy, Sharkie. Throwing you around does make for a great isometric workout, though.” He smiled, utterly unashamed.
I shook my head, mock-disappointed. “And to think I thought you were charming. Whew.” I leaned back against the ropes. “Thanks for the help, though. Seriously. What do I owe you?”
He shook his head. “Clyde took care of it, and I had fun anyway. Same time next week work for you?”
“Oh. Sure.” I was surprised, and Willy laughed.
“You didn’t think this was a one and done kind of thing, did you? You’ve got a lot more than a few hours’ worth of potential, Sharkie.”
“Ah. Um, thanks again. Same time next week ought to be fine, though-“
“Neither of us really has a fixed schedule. I’ll give you my number.” I handed him my slab and he punched it in. “Have a good night. You can find the way out?”
“Yep. You too, Willy.” I grabbed my stuff and left his apartment. After getting off the elevator I tipped the guard a wink, went outside, and embarked on the walk home.
—
On the way back I stopped at a drugstore in Central and got enough basic supplies to at least take a shower. I also noticed people treating me a little differently. I was used to looks, but now it seemed like if they noticed the Bones tattoos they were more likely to give me space in a crowd or be more polite at the register. Some people looked scared, though, and others looked hostile or outright hateful. I’d hitched myself to the Bones, and now their friends were my friends, their enemies my enemies.
Back at my apartment I took a long, scalding shower, enjoying the freedom of having my own bathroom. I winced a little as I dried off and got dressed. I would definitely be sore tomorrow, but for now I was full of the pleasant ache you get after a good workout. I was about to go lie down for a bit before dinner when someone knocked on the door. A look through the peephole revealed Dezi standing there with something in her hands.
I let her in right away. “Hey, Dez-“
“Sharkie! Congratulations on your new place!” she cheerfully interrupted. “This is for you.” She thrust a largish cardboard box into my hands.
“Uh, thanks, Dezi-“
“And your new eye is really pretty! Um, if it’s okay to say that, I know it can’t have been fun losing it...”
“It’s fine, Dezi, all good,” I assured her now that I could get a word in. “You want to come in?”
“I’d love to!” She stood in the middle of of the living room, looking around excitedly.
“Want a drink? I’ve got...oh Kings, I’ve got water and beer and nothing else. Living like a bachelor over here...”
“This place is great, Sharkie! And beer’s fine.”
I got us both cans out of the six-pack I bought earlier and tossed her one. She popped the top without looking and drained half of it in one go. “Pretty thirsty, huh?”
“Oh, I just left work.” Indeed, she was dressed in khakis and a tucked-in plaid buttondown. Her glasses were a little smudgy and a few strands of brown hair had escaped her ponytail. I almost liked it more than the usual clean-cut look. “It was kind of a long day.”
“Mrs. Sanverth working you hard?”
“Oh, she’s right there next to me. She’s there when I show up and still there when I leave. We’ve been really busy. In fact, when I told Mr. Walker I was coming to visit, he asked me to tell you about it. So I will, as soon as you give me a tour and open your present!” She put her hands on her hips, as if daring me not to.
So I showed her around the place, and she oohed and ahhed at all the approprate points. “I think it’s a really good base, Sharkie. You could easily make it into something amazing.”
I nodded. “Just getting some furniture in here’ll make it look way better.”
“Exactly. Now don’t you want to see your gift?”
“You didn’t have to get me anything, Dezi...”
“Of course I did. And if you’re really that worried about it, well...” She looked down a moment, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ears, “Mr. Walker paid me back for it. He even helped me pick them out.”
“Oh, boy.” If Walker was involved it really could be anything.
“It’s nothing weird, I promise! Come on!”
“Alright, alright.” I opened up the box to find a pair of shoes. Dress shoes, in fact, of black synthetic leather with a square toe and an ankle-high collar. They were also huge. I checked inside one.
“Sixteen men’s. How’d you know?”
“That’s what Mr. Walker helped with! How did he know, in fact?”
“I brought it up once off-hand. I’m surprised he even remembered.”
Dezi giggled. “He’s kind of a surprising man, isn’t he? But they’re to go with your suit! You can wear them to the big meeting.”
Oh, yeah. I guess I would have looked pretty stupid wearing a nice suit with some blown-out work boots. “Damn, Dezi. Thank you.”
“Oh, you’ll be doing me a favor if you wear them, Sharkie! That suit deserves a nice pair of shoes. They’ve also got reinforced toes and a ballistic weave built into the uppers. Um, just in case.”
“Even better. They’re great.”
“I know, right? They ought to match perfectly.” She finished her beer and sat down unceremoniously against the wall. “Now, do you want to hear what we’ve been doing?”
“Definitely. Another beer?” At her nod I fetched it, then sat down next to her. She took a sip, went “Ahhh...” and turned to me.
“Alright, so I guess you and Monta...um, ‘retrieved’ some kind of arm from the Blues a couple days ago?”
“Yeah.” I wondered if she knew exactly how. “Wait you met Fidi?”
“Oh, yes. He seems very nice,” she smiled. “Anyway, the arm? Well, Mr. Walker asked me to tell you that we have no idea what it is! It doesn’t match any known model of prosthetic, or look like any of the customs the slicers have been able to dig up. In fact, they can’t even get their computers to talk to it. All they can tell us is it’s probably really, really old.” She leaned in. “Like Sun Age old,” she finished with a conspiratorial whisper.
“Wait. Seriously?”
Dezi nodded emphatically. “DD and Stripmine looked through all the old records they could get to. Have you ever heard of a Woven Man?” I shook my head. “Neither had I, but DD found a really old version of the Book of Kest that mentioned them. What was it...’puissant indeed in battle, with skin like cloth of metal thread.’ Sounds familiar, right? Of course, there was nothing about what they actually were, but...”
“But Kest wrote that book in the middle of the freakin’ Lastwar.”
“Yep! More than that, well, we haven’t figured it out.”
“Figures.” I frowned, thinking. First you had Blue Division trading relics to uptown gangs. Put that together with the menschenjaeger assassin who couldn’t have been hired by anyone from D-block, and that Admin samurai we’d seen plundering the ancient temple in the park...well, I didn’t know what you got, but it was easy to see that some entity or entities from very high up was interested in both the gang war and in old Sun Age artifacts. I might have to talk to Walker about it later.
“Sounds like you’re getting to know these hackers pretty well,” I continued.
Her eyes shot open. “Oh, don’t call them that! But yes.”
“I mean, isn’t that what they are?”
“No, they get very touchy about that. Only poseurs call it ‘hacking’ anymore. All the real Net-wranglers call themselves ‘slicers.’ Or so I’m told,” she finished with a shrug.
“...Oh. Okay. What are you doing with them?
”She sipped her beer and leaned forward. “So much, Sharkie. Mrs. Sanverth and I work with them a lot. Lately we’re dealing with all these ridiculous little power cartels.”
The power cartels were sort of like gangs, except between them they controlled many of the sources of electricity running into D-block. The lifelights were on their own centrally-controlled grid, but everything else was up for grabs. Some controlled substations, others generators or geothermal wells, a few even their own nuclear reactors. They existed in an uneasy state of equilibrium with the main gangs, but it made sense the war had knocked things out of work.
“What do you mean, ‘dealing with?’”
“Oh!, Um, not like the way your side of things ‘deals’ with people.” Dezi frowned, looking nervous.” N-not that-“
“It’s fine, I know what you mean.” Seemed like she was having a harder time working through the moral implications of working for the Bones than I was. I hoped I hadn’t hurt her by getting her the job.
“Mm. So some of these cartels raise prices, or try to get rid of their rivals, or even start being friendly with Blue Division instead of the Bones. So Mrs. Sanverth and I, we, how to put it, disincentivize all that.” Excitement began to color her voice. “We’ll subsidize people switching away from the target so they lose revenue, or manipulate the market to jack up the prices on parts they need for maintenance, or lean on suppliers so it’s cheaper for rival cartels to run wire into the target’s territory. And all other kinds of things! Sometimes we have to do it in secret, or we need information nobody wants to tell us, so DD and Stripmine and the other slicers help us out! It’s like playing three games of chess at once, and the moves you make on one board affect the others! Except, um, that there’s real people involved.”
“Sounds like it would be fun if I knew a single thing about math or accounting.”
A slight frown bent her mouth, and she looked very thoughtful. She had such an open, honest face I could almost read the thoughts going through her head. “You know,” she finally said, “I guess I do enjoy it. It’s the first time I can say that about a job, you know, and its this one. I wonder what that says about me.”
I threw an arm over her shoulder and pulled her into a sideways hug. “Says you’re smart, and you know what you’re doing. And you’re making sure people’s lights stay on!”
“I...guess...oof!” I let her go. “Kings, Sharkie! You’re even stronger than you look!”
"Shit! Sorry about that.”
“No, no, it’s fine. Thanks for letting me ramble.”
“No, it’s cool to hear what you’re doing! It’s a whole different side of the job. And thanks for the kicks, too.”
She flashed me a sun-bright smile and stood, then downed the last of her beer. “Thank you for the tour! I have to get home, but let me know when you’re all moved in! We can throw a big party and trash the place! Or something. Whatever you do when you get a new house.”
“Sure thing. I’m sure Walker can hook us up with all the drugs and booze we need.”
She laughed, then froze, eyes wide. “Blyat, I guess he could! Bye, Sharkie! Congratulations...” Her voice trailed off down the hallway as she shot out the room.
Hm. Kind of an odd little visit, but a nice one. Overall it had been a nice day, especially getting that conversation with Dad off my chest. I hadn’t told him about my little tungsten mystery, but if he’d known anything I’m sure he would have told me. Maybe next time, but one fraught conversation a day was enough. And tomorrow? Pengyi was coming. That ought to be fun.