Valentin strolled around an outside corner of the team's warehouse in a Very Casual manner. It was not a manner that indicated that someone was about to indulge in any sort of Filthy Vice, no sir. Valentin moved like he had not a care in the world...until he was carefully out of sight.
He leaned against the warehouse corner and grumbled, then darted his head to look in both directions. A light dusting of snow stretched over black pavement as far as he could see, and the bitter winter wind stung his cheeks. He didn't notice the latter, because the coast was clear. Besides, their 'guest' was not supposed to be outside anyway. It should be safe as he only needed a couple of minutes to indulge. With a relieved sigh Valentin reached into his right lapel pocket and pulled out a single cigarette. His left lapel pocket gave up the lighter therein, and with something approaching religious ecstasy he flicked the lighter on and brought it up to the cigarette now held in his mouth...
Valentin started in surprise as his cigarette all but vaporized, torn from his mouth and shredded by invisible claws. "[I told you how bad that is for you,]" whispered a chirping voice from nowhere.
"Oh, come on!" Valentin hung his head. "Please, just need one. You promised you wouldn't step outside."
"[True, but then again I'm a professional liar. Don't worry, nobody can see me.]"
"Not unless they have infrared sensors." Valentin looked around in a panic as his nicotine cravings faded in the face of a much more severe concern. If The Powers That Be caught wind of a Karnakian actually on Earth...well, jail would be the least of his worries. "Get back inside!"
"[I'll make a deal with you,]" replied the invisible Karnakian.
Valentin clenched his teeth. "If it means you stop trying to get yourself and me in all the trouble, then yes!"
"[I'll go back inside and stay there if you promise not to smoke until the job's over. Then you can go back to abusing your lungs.]"
"Why do you care?" he whispered furiously.
"[Because you are little and need protecting. Not to mention the smell of [tobacco] smoke makes me heave.]"
Valentin hung his head in defeat. "Fine, we have deal. Now get your tail inside!"
There was no verbal response. Instead, he felt the caress of gentle but very sharp claws on his scalp before his invisible companion vanished.
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“With respect, Daniel - and to you, sir - you don’t understand what we have here!” Chaudhari’s olive-skinned face split in a huge smile, and her hands spread out in front of her in a pleading manner to both men. The gesture made her look like a used-car salesman trying to close a deal with a pair of finicky customers.
Daniel gave a shrug of his stooped shoulders and looked towards his boss. Martin didn’t look back. Instead he rubbed his temple and regarded once more the Egg in its cradle. He was beginning to hate the sight of it, what with all the trouble trailing in its wake. “I know exactly what we have,” he snapped at her. “The data’s why I had the damn thing stolen in the first place.”
The Indian scientist shook her head, causing her perfectly coiffed ponytail to sway gently. Her pleading gesture shifted towards the Egg. “I’m not talking about the data on it, I mean the Egg itself! This is a piece of alien nanotech with none of the restrictions of the standard fabbers. It’s designed to operate with no infrastructure! Of course, it only does the one thing, buuuut...”
She trailed off hopefully. Martin set his jaw as his frustration reached maximum pressure, but just as he was about to go full Vesuvius on her the penny dropped. As he realized her implication, his eyes widened and he let out a rare curse.
“Holy...fuuuck. You think we could reverse-engineer the nanotech itself?” Martin eyed the Egg again, this time with trepidation. For one moment he wondered if he'd at last bitten off more than he could chew. If the Senate ever realized the full implications of what she’d said, the xenos just might stage another invasion of Earth.
Daniel blew out a breath and gave voice to Martin’s trepidation. “I’m not sure we want to go down that road. Unrestricted nanotech is something that the xenos don’t allow even amongst themselves. We're talking a gray goo scenario here.”
Martin thought through the possibilities. “True, but those restrictions apply only to the xeno's citizenry. Certainly their governments have such capabilities, and they haven't become gray goo yet. Let’s at least think through our various options. What would it take for a successful effort?”
Chaudhari stared off over Daniel’s head. “We’ll need as much analyzing hardware as possible while the Egg does its thing. Full EM spectrum at a minimum, plus microscopic samples of it during the various stages of ‘growth’.”
“We’ll want X-ray images at key points,” added Daniel. His face was now as thoughtful as Chaudhari’s. “It’ll be vital to figuring out how the nanotech moves the, well, ‘nutrients’ around while inside itself while the structure grows.”
Martin gave the Egg one final look as if daring the thing to raise any objection. “Get an equipment list together. Whatever you need, I'll get.”
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Christian bundled his dark blue uniform and ID badge into a small duffel, whistling tunelessly through his teeth while he did so.
"Well somebody's in a good mood," said a nearby coworker. The man was in the middle of stripping off his own uniform.
"Got a date tonight," replied Christian. "New gal in town. Her name's Zoey, and she's one helluva looker." He shut his locker with a smirk and wondered just how grateful Zoey might be if the game went really well for her. Maybe they should set up some ways to signal to each other, just to tilt the odds in their mutual favor. Then she'd be very grateful indeed; maybe he could even get some hot and sweaty good times out of the deal.
Christian slung his duffel over one shoulder and headed for the exit. On second thought, he decided not to even think about cheating if Zoey was involved. He had no inkling of her competence, and didn't want to find out midway through the game that she sucked at signaling. The guy in charge of the game was maybe-kinda-sorta involved in organized crime. Of course, that hadn't stopped Christian from cheating a few times...but he knew when not to press his luck.
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The two of them looked around the dingy back room. Christian tried to look calm and composed, as if it was perfectly natural for him to be standing next to a stone-cold stunner of a woman. Before them sat a green-felted round table ringed with well-worn leather chairs.
"This is it?" asked the aforementioned stunner. She'd hung her parka near the door and now wore a slinky blue dress that complimented her azure eyes.
"This it is," said a voice from behind them. A man that Christian knew only as 'Max' strolled through the sole door into the space. Max was a lanky fellow with a truly impressive scar that meandered up one of his cheeks. He liked to spin stories of how he'd received it, and no two were the same. Christian suspected that it was probably due to something mundane like falling off a ladder. The man fixed Christian with pale, predatory eyes. "Who's the newcomer, Chris?"
"This is Zoey, she's looking for a good game. I told her yours was the best."
"Thanks, I think." Max sketched a slight bow in Zoey's direction. "At least you're prettier than your companion. We do a standard five-card draw, minimum buy-in is one thousand."
Christian didn't miss the slight flicker of dread that crossed Zoey's face. Her voice, however, showed no sign of fear. "I can handle that," she declared.
Max smiled, but it was not a friendly smile. "I guess it's a night for new faces. Nalin found one of his own, they should be here shortly."
Within the next half hour, the rest of the players arrived. Christian gave cordial nods to the familiar faces; they were more than ‘acquaintances’ but definitely not at the level of ‘friends’...with one exception, a cheerful and round-faced guy named Akihito. He'd hit it off with Christian from the start, and he took a moment to give Christian a smile and a handshake.
Christian also took a moment to size up the other 'new face'. The guy was a shorter, more bear-like man named Rick who wore a neatly trimmed beard and a permanent hangdog expression.
The group paid up with Max and seated themselves around the table. Christian set his duffel under his chair and hoped that Zoey would sit next to him. Alas, it was not to be. He found himself seated with Rick to his right instead of Zoey, while the latter sat across the table from him. He supposed he’d suffer through such a hardship; at least he could look at her without getting a crick in his neck.
Max set out the rules along with the chips, then performed the first deal.
It started out okay for Christian and less okay for Rick. The man’s dour expression turned to anger as his pile of chips diminished. Zoey was a deft hand in contrast, winning a few big rounds. She won one of the larger pots by bluffing on a pair of threes to the point where everyone else folded. The feat earned chuckles of grudging admiration from most of the players and a deeper scowl from Rick. Christian didn’t mind losing that round, since it meant he got a nice long look down Zoey's dress while she raked in the pot.
A few deals later, it was Rick’s turn to deal. The guy might not be great at poker but he seemed at least competent at shuffling. As Christian peeped at his hand he found himself having to really work on his poker face. A pair of Jacks looked up at him as if to say that tonight was his lucky night.
After the first betting round, Christian decided to draw two. His posture stayed casual, but inside he was jumping up and down like a loon; one of his new cards was a Jack as well. He eyed his stacks of chips and decided that there was no way he was folding, not on this hand.
Several people folded soon after. It came down to a three-way showdown between Christian, Rick, and Akihito. A few rounds of raising later and Rick folded with a grumble.
"You must have a good hand, Chris," said Akihito.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Christian responded with a casual shrug. "Only one way to find out. I raise you a hundred." He tossed his bet into the pot.
"Very well. I call," replied Akihito. He laid his cards in front of him in a smooth manner. "Triple eights."
Christian decided to be magnanimous in victory and not cackle like an evil overlord. "Pretty good! I got three Jacks." He matched Akihito's smooth layout as he put down his own cards.
Rick gave another little grumble. "Christian wins," he said. He picked up the discards and reformed the deck. He waved the latter in Christian's direction with an ironic air. "Congrats."
Akihito shook his head and chuckled while the winner half-stood out of his chair to rake the pot towards him. Christian sat down with a satisfied sigh and quickly segregated the chips into their proper denominations. Then he accepted the deck from Rick with a little nod and began to shuffle. The next few deals passed pleasantly; Christian didn't win, but he didn't lose much either.
On the fourth deal after Christian's big win, however, things went entirely to shit.
Rick won a relatively small pot, but he creased his forehead as he looked through the hands on the table. "I coulda sworn...where's the fourth Ace?"
It was Max's turn to deal, and he raised an eyebrow as he collected the cards and began to shuffle. "Whaddya mean?"
"I haven't seen the Ace of Clubs in a while," said Rick. "I think somebody's holding out."
Max rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, that's ridiculous."
Rick tapped the felt tabletop. "Just spread out the deck, okay? We should make sure."
With an exasperated sigh, Max complied. His put-upon air evaporated as he began sorting through the face-up cards, pulling out the Aces. He went through it four times, but was only able to find three of the Aces.
Sure enough, the Ace of Clubs was nowhere to be seen.
Max's face set into a frown. "Everyone, hands on the table, now. Keep 'em there."
A staccato series of thumps sounded through the room as everyone complied. Christian felt a little pang of fear, but quashed it with equal suddenness. For once he was innocent, and he wondered with some curiosity who was the guilty party.
"Here's what we're gonna do," said Max. "Starting with me, we're gonna each stand up in turn and keep our hands out and visible. Move real slow." He pushed himself up with slow care, keeping his hands up and out. "See anything, Harry?"
The guy to Max's left looked down at the now-empty chair and the floor under it. "Nothing."
"Okay. Now you stand."
As Harry obeyed, a new and horrifying thought struck Christian. He glanced across the table to Zoey, whose face was set in an impassive mask. Surely she wouldn't be stupid enough to cheat? But what if she was? He'd brought her, after all. Max would not be too happy with him.
The knot of tension in Christian's stomach cinched tighter as the wave of standing players inched its way oh-so-slowly towards Zoey. She didn't so much as glance at Christian the whole time, instead she kept her cool and indifferent expression. Her face didn't so much as flicker when it was her turn to stand...and revealed nothing.
Christian blew out a silent and relieved breath as the wave continued its way around the table to him. When it was his turn, he imitated Max's caution as he stood up slowly. His heart rate was just about back to normal. Once they'd found the cheater they could get back to playing cards...
Rick and the man to Christian's left both yelled simultaneously. "What the hell?"
Forgetting to move slowly, Christian spun and stared down in utter panicked disbelief at the Ace of Clubs sitting neatly in the center of his own seat.
Rick surged to his feet, his face contorted in anger. "I knew it! You damn cheat!"
Before Christian could so much as draw breath to protest he found himself staring down at a pistol held in Rick's mitt-like hand. A pistol that was aimed right at Christian's heart.
Max settled a hand next to his hip. "Rick, I'm only gonna say this once. Put that fucking thing away..."
Rick didn't pay the slightest attention as he continued his ranting. "What about your lady-friend over there? She in on it too? I bet you got some signals set up, eh?"
"I didn't-!" began Christian.
Two sharp successive cracks sounded out, and for one moment Christian thought himself a dead man. But instead it was Rick's eyes who went wide with shock. The bear-like man looked down at himself, his gun slipping from suddenly nerveless fingers as a pair red blotches spread out and across his chest.
Christian whipped his head towards Zoey, who stood with that same emotionless expression and a pistol of her own pointed at Rick. Before he could even scream another protest, multiple bloody holes erupted in Zoey's chest simultaneous with the sound of rapid gunfire. Her now-boneless body toppled inelegantly backwards before Rick's own corpse could even hit the ground.
Max bared his teeth as smoke wafted from the muzzle of his now-drawn pistol. The players all stood in a frozen tableau around the table as they each tried to parse the carnage they'd just seen.
"God. Damn. SHIT!" Max roared as his furious gaze swung towards Christian.
"I didn't!" yelled Christian, gesturing at the Ace on his chair. "I didn't put that there!"
Somehow that declaration was the signal for 'everybody panic.' Christian stood like a stunned ox as the room filled with lot of screaming, flailing limbs, and running around. A tug at his shoulder snapped him out of his trance, and he turned to see Akihito. The man's face was no longer cheerful as he yanked again at Christian's arm. "WE GO! NOW!" he screamed.
Christian's self-preservation instincts kicked in, and he managed to beat Akihito in a sprint out the door.
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Max sighed as he sat down on his heels next to the woman's body. Her blue eyes stared lifelessly upwards. Her mouth hung open as a trickle of red dripped downward from one corner of her mouth. The blood mingled on the floor with the gore oozing from her shredded torso.
"Alas, poor thing," he intoned. "Such a sweet rose of summer, come to spread her cheer to these poor wintry climes only to be cut down in her prime by a cruel and fickle fate..."
Zara's eyes ceased their death-stare towards the ceiling and focused on him. "Oh bite me, Max."
He grinned. "Anytime you want, darlin'. And anywhere you care to name." He stood and reached down with one hand to help Zara to her feet.
Meanwhile Rory already had Christian's duffel on the table and unzipped. He sorted through it while humming a happy tune, unconcerned with his own seemingly bullet-ridden chest. "Ah!" He pulled out a white ID badge.
Max let go of Zara's hand. "Seriously, are you okay?" he asked. "That was a damned good flop you pulled. So good, in fact, that you just about gave this poor old heart of mine a serious stoppage. For a moment there I wondered if I'd used real bullets by accident."
"Eh, I've done better," replied Zara. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
Rory rummaged around under his own chair and retrieved a small black case with a slot on its side. He set Christian's ID card within it and touched his ear. "Hey Silk, you reading me? Yeah, you should be able to scan it now."
The case emitted a faint whirr while Rory's expression turned from happy to put-upon. "Yes, I'm fine...I told you I'd be fine! It was just a couple of squibs, they're perfectly safe!" He rolled his eyes as the person on the other end continued their harangue. "Look, just scan the damn thing, wouldja? Lemme know when you're done."
Max strolled over to Rory. "Somebody on your crew wants to be your mother, eh?"
Rory sighed. "Only if my luck holds." He stuck out his mitt. "Thanks again for helping us out."
"No thanks are necessary," replied Max as he shook Rory's hand. "The money is quite nice, but frankly I'm just happy that I got to see the master himself in action. You did a center deal to give Christian that third Jack, didn't you?"
"Yep." Rory's smile was as smug as a cat who's just knocked something very fragile and hideously expensive off of a counter-top.
"God. Damn. I was looking right at your hands and I still couldn't see it." Max held up a finger. "In my defense, I did see you flick that Ace onto his chair when he stood up to collect the pot."
Zara walked around the other side of the table with a duffel bag of her own. She unzipped it and pulled out a pristine dress, a shirt and jacket of Rory's size, and a few large stacks of cash. She began stripping out of her own ruined clothes, revealing quite a bit of skin along with the now-empty packs of fake blood strapped to her midsection. She yanked off the packs and bundled them into the duffel along with her original and ruined dress, leaving her clad only in a bra and panties.
Max tried and (for once) succeeded in not ogling a near-naked woman. Zara was easily young enough to be his daughter, which quashed any erotic feelings on his part into something more akin to a wistful longing to be young again. He distracted himself by pulling the stacks of money towards him and and sorting them into smaller, equal piles.
Meanwhile Rory started undressing himself as he argued with his unseen comrade. "I know it's an explosion close to the skin! But, and here's the important part, it's a very small explosion."
Zara smirked as she helped Rory out of his shirt and jacket, then out of his own blood-pack-filled undergarment. All the while he continued to protest.
"I'm not gonna argue about this any more! Are you done? No, I mean with the card! You know, the thing we're going through all of this nonsense for?"
Max looked across the table at Zara. She'd just finished pulling on her new dress. "You guys must have something big in the works," he said.
She glared at him in sudden suspicion. In response, Max mimed zipping his mouth closed, locking it, and throwing away an imaginary key. Then he grinned again. "Hey, I'm gettin' paid enough to not be curious. I just want you two to be careful, alright? You need to look after this schlub." He nodded towards Rory.
Zara's glare softened. "We will, and I will. Thanks."
The door to the back room swung open a crack and Akihito slipped in.
"Is our boy all set?" asked Max.
Akihito nodded. "Last I saw he was running home as fast as his feet would take him. I don't think he's realized yet that he left his stuff here."
Rory gave another exasperated sigh as the black case let out a soft beep. "Okay, Silk...okay, yes, I hear ya. You sure you got all the data you need? Good, tell Big O that we're on our way back." He pulled the ID out of the scanner and tossed it back into Christian's duffel. "This is all yours."
Max reached over and zipped up Christian's duffel, then handed it to Akihito who in turn accepted it with a little bow of his head. Meanwhile, one by one the other players also slipped in through the half-open door. By the time Rory finished dressing, the rest of the original group stood ringed around the table.
Max looked around at the assembled group. "Good job, everyone." He motioned to the stacks of money. "You all earned your pay. One stack per person. Akihito has one last bit to do, and then we're finished. We reconvene at Francine's place in two hours, and I'll make sure she breaks out the good stuff." His scarred face smiled at them all in turn. "The first round's on me, but after that it's outta your own pockets. Ya buncha degenerates."
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His feet gave the beige carpet quite a workout as Christian Murphy paced back and forth in the living room of his modest apartment. Once he'd gotten over the adrenaline shock of watching two people fucking die while in bad-breath range, he'd realized that his uniform and ID badge were smack-dab in the middle of an active crime scene.
Christian rubbed a hand over his mouth as he wondered just what might happen. If Max decided to just split and leave the bodies there, the police would be paying a visit soon enough. They'd find the corpses along with his duffel. Hell, they might be ringing his doorbell at any moment.
Even if that never happened, he'd still need his ID to get back onto base. He'd have to get a replacement. Maybe he could claim that he'd been mugged? Or maybe he could sneak back to the location and see if he could snag his stuff before it became state's evidence. Either way, he had to decide now. If he reported a theft before any report of shooting or murder, that would count in his favor...
His frenzied musing ceased as the doorbell rang. Christian sidled up to his front door, taking care not to put his body directly in front of it. He risked moving in front of it just long enough to glance through the peephole.
Akihito stood on Christian's front stoop, glancing from side to side in barely-controlled fear.
Christian cracked his door open. "What the fuck?"
Akihito shoved a familiar duffel bag towards the just-opened entryway, and in surprise Christian let the door swing open wider to admit the offering. Christian's duffel thumped to the carpet next to his feet.
The unexpected visitor kept up his side-to-side scanning. "I must have dropped my wallet, okay? I snuck back in there to get it and saw nothing but some blood stains on the floor. Got my wallet back and saw your bag, I figured you'd want it. And this is it, understand? It's my last favor. No more sticking my neck out. From now on I don't know you and you don't know me."
"You didn't see Max?" hissed Christian.
"No. Maybe he was off chopping up the bodies of those two idiots, just so he could burn them easier. Just lay low, okay? Like I said, from now on we're all strangers to each other." Without a glance back Akihito turned and walked away.
Christian shut the door and regarded the duffel at his feet with something akin to sexual hunger. "Oh, please be in there..." He dove for it and unzipped the top with alacrity. "Please...," He dug one hand into its depths, moving it over the bulletproof fabric of his uniform. He sagged in relief as his fingers encountered a familiar square of plastic. Christian pulled out his ID and regarded it with an emotion akin to hunger.
He'd somehow gotten free of the whole mess. His superiors were not very forgiving, and he knew that if they caught wind of his infidelities they'd be very harsh with him. So all he had to do was say nothing and wait for the garbage pile to fade away into the distance.