Seen from some elevation, Crescent could be quite beautiful. Especially in diminishing daylight, when the grimier parts were even harder to see. It really was nestled very tidily up against the Great Gorge, and from above it didn’t matter that all the high-rises blocked the sunlight and created cold spots. Things got a bit more spaced-out, not to mention elegant, the further west one went, but that wasn’t where Freel did his business. He did his work in the grime, and that was exactly where he set the car down.

It was a very plain landing platform for the immediate area, with a capacity of maybe twenty, and neither it nor any of the other parked vehicles saw much in the way of maintenance. The litter the thrusters had blown up stayed airborne as they stepped out onto pitted concrete, and he batted his hand about at the slow-moving rain. It wasn’t that annoying. He’d grown up in a place much like this, after all.

What few locals were out and about matched the cars, and Freel took particular notice of a youth who stood leaning against the rail that surrounded the platform. He was maybe all of fifteen years old, and had that particular air of cocky confrontation. He was a feral, running wild, and he had the scanning eyes of a predator. Or a scavenger, more likely. Freel looked around and spotted a few dark figures further away. He couldn’t be sure that all of them were looking his way, but he would have made a modest bet that a few of them were.

The boy’s chin lifted a bit as he saw that Freel was definitely coming his way. He was lean, in a sharp, feline kind of way, and finally opened his mouth after Freel snapped a picture of him.

“See somming yuu like?” he said mockingly, in one of those stupid gutter accents. “Goona go home ann touch-”

Freel punched him in the face. He heard the boy’s nose crack, but it clearly wasn’t for the first time. He flopped down, and the others closed in as Freel put his foot on the little viper’s chest.

“My car?” he said, and pointed backwards. “It doesn’t get touched. Not by you, not by anyone. I don’t care who you answer to. Ask around, and find out who we answer to. I’m holding you responsible for the car while I’m away. So go tell all your little friends.”

Freel put his full weight on the boy’s chest, just long enough to step over him. The neighbourhood enveloped them in its charms as they left the platform behind. More litter, a faint but persistent smell, neglect of services and buildings alike, and a general air of desolation around the people themselves. And then there were the junkies.

Only a fraction of them were visible, of course. Most would be behind closed doors, chasing oblivion in box apartments, or in gardens that had long since ceased to be for family outings. But enough were ambling around, or riding high in the gutter, to give a hint as to the size of the overall pestilence. And, as always, some were selling themselves for the sake of a fix.

Losers, Freel thought.

A small group that looked more put-together than many others, maybe not even junkies at all, stood on a street corner and saw Freel’s group coming. They had an air of trouble, and Freel checked them for weapon bulges, and pockets large enough to hide those. But with closer proximity they clearly recognised Freel’s band, and diverted their attention elsewhere.

The Little Nest didn’t stand out in any way. Exactly as things should be. It was just one of many houses hidden away in the shadows of the towering apartment complexes. It was also just amazingly nondescript in shape and style, with an exactly medium amount of wear and grime. The tall fence that surrounded it hinted at a distant past as a workplace, but that was all that Freel was willing to guess at.

There were no signs of light or life. The courtyard was empty, and the windows were actually blacked out on the inside. The four of them came to a stop by the main gate, and just waited there for a bit. The cameras were hidden, and they weren’t supposed to draw attention to the place with raised voices.

Soon enough a side door opened, and a figure scurried over. It didn’t say anything; this not being the first visit. The gate simply opened, and the four of them followed inside.

Most of the Little Nest’s interior had been removed, making the original point of the house even more of a mystery. The space was now taken up by rows and rows of man-sized liquid tanks, and hoses going in and out. Much of what space remained was taken up by electrical equipment and chemical containers. What little remained after that was being patrolled by a handful of locals.

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“Ah, welcome, welcome,” said a man in a red beanie that never seemed to leave his head. “What brings you guys here?”

Sulli walked over to them, holding out his long arms as if he meant to hug the entire group at once. He had to abandon the display, due to a lack of elbow room.

“The boss,” Freel said. “As always.”

“You didn’t come for a quick hit?” Sulli asked, smiling lazily. “Dunk you heads in?”

He knocked on one of the tanks.

“That stuff’s corrosive while it’s still cooking,” Freel reminded him. “And flammable.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just joking.”

“I know you’re joking, Sulli. You always joke. You just never improve with experience.”

“Hnn.”

“How are things?”

“Everything’s fine. No cops sniffing around. The demand is steady and the supply is steady. You can’t walk down the street around here without noticing.”

“No, you can’t,” Freel said. “Boss still wants checks. Just to be on the safe side.”

“The mysterious boss,” Sulli said, and Freel felt he saw the hint of an issue. “The nameless boss. I’ve been overseeing this for a year now. How about I actually get to know his-”

“No, Sulli,” Freel said. “You were told right at the start.”

“Well, how am I supposed to negotiate with a man when I don’t even-”

“You’re not, Sulli.”

A flash of irritation went through the man, and he directed some of the energy into poking a claw under that red beanie and scratching vigorously.

“I’ve been doing good work,” he insisted. “We keep the streets supplied. We earn the… the earnings. Good earnings. We’re the ones keeping your boss fat and cushy. In a regular job, I would be able to earn a raise at this point.”

“Then go apply for an office job, Sulli,” Freel said, and crooked a corner of his mouth. “Go on. You want to use me as a reference?”

Yules giggled. Kreb made that dark little noise that was his version of laughter.

Sulli had no response, but clearly didn’t want to admit it.

“Hey, I don’t need to be doing this,” he said, with an attempt at belligerence. “I’ve been running all this smoothly so far, but…”

“But what, Sulli?” Freel said, and invaded his space. “What? Sulli?”

He gestured to the boys, and heard them spread, in case Sulli’s staff started causing any trouble. But mostly just for Sulli’s eyes.

“What, Sulli?” Freel insisted, getting more forceful. “Were you implying something?”

Sulli stood still and silent, seeking a way out of the hole he’d stuck his foot into. There was, of course, only one.

“No, Freel. Nothing.”

“Right, right.”

Freel put his hands on Sulli’s shoulders. He kept his manner calm, but without it seeming genuine.

“Then things will continue as they have so far. You manufacture, and hand the shri over to the distributors. You and your people take your exact cut, and our people take the rest. And everyone stays quiet and disciplined. Because, Sulli…”

Freel patted his shoulders.

“... you are replaceable.”

He smiled at the smaller man. Then he turned him around.

“Now, you’re going to give us a quick tour, while Yules checks out your finances. Then I’m going to hit the Black Rail and forget all about this.”

“Sure,” Sulli responded.

After that, it was all quite standard, and quite familiar. There were no money discrepancies, all the chemists and guards seemed to be steering clear of the stuff themselves, and there were no stockpiles of shri; the sellers showed up at fixed hours to collect, whenever a batch was ready. The group was out of there in twenty minutes.

Freel looked over his shoulder as they left the gate behind. He wondered if Sulli had any idea just how replaceable he really was. Did he seriously think that the operation he’d been put in charge of could provide the drug epidemic that was sweeping Crescent? The Little Nest, while a profitable side venture, was ultimately mostly intended as a buffer.

If bribery and indifference ever failed to keep the law away, the Little Nest would serve as a prize for them, to wave in front of the media as a show of their competence and dedication. The main lab would stay hidden, and continue to print money.

“And that’s a full work day!” Yules shouted. “Now let’s go drink it away!”