30 – The Perils of Vengeance
When Tony left the Ghost Ship, he passed through a different screening room, and the lady behind the glass had to go to some central location below the ground floor to retrieve his gun and magazines. He stood there, waiting while his mind furiously tried to pull his thoughts toward his conversation with Eric. He resisted, mainly because at the moment he was enjoying fantasies of violence with regard to his old friend.
He kept picturing Eric’s surprised, ghost-white face when Jen shot Emily; if that were the last memory he had of him, he probably wouldn’t want to kill him. Unfortunately, he also remembered Eric directing Doc Chavez as he stripped Tony’s gear. More than that, he knew his old “friend” had poisoned their mutual contacts against him; he’d purged Tony from their operating accounts, and even cleared out his backups; he’d dumped Tony in the Blast and left him to rot; worst of all, though, he’d stayed with Jen. He’d slid into her bed and sidled up to her, worm that he was.
“Here you go, hon.” The girl pushed his pistol and needler mags under her window, startling Tony out of his red-tinted thoughts.
“Thanks.” He took a minute to holster his gun and slide the mags back into his arm. As he snapped the cover plate back down, a thought occurred to him, and he made a mental note to talk to Titania’s outfitter again.
“Take your time,” the girl said, watching him. At first, Tony thought she was being sarcastic, but when he glanced up at her synth-modded face, her bright baby-blue eyes were smiling, and she was leaning forward, twirling her purple hair with one finger.
Tony threw her a half smile and left, passing through reception, nodding to the bouncers, and then slipping out into the cold, damp air of the city. His mind continued to wander down dark, murderous streets while his feet took him back to the Arms. As Tony wiped his boots on the mud mats that the staff had rolled out for the weather, the synthetic doorman watched him, nodding slightly as his eyes gleamed like coals in the gloomy lighting.
Tony shuffled halfway to the elevator bank when another synth approached—this one a feminine model wearing a bellhop’s uniform. “Sir, um, Mr. Shepherd?”
Tony slowed his steps, looking at her sideways. He wondered at her nervous affectation. “Yeah?”
“Um, Miss Titania wanted me to let you know that she’s reserved a table in the lounge.”
“Ah.” Tony glanced toward the hotel bar. The “date” had slipped his mind. “Right. Thanks.”
“My pleasure, sir.” She almost bowed, but, clearly flustered, stopped herself halfway and turned to hurry away.
“Nora, send her a tip,” Tony muttered, walking over to the bar. He bypassed the synthetic host and walked straight to Titania’s table. She was hard to miss; not that she’d done anything unusual; she hadn’t done anything to her styling, but she’d stand out anywhere. There was just something about her—tall, perfect poise, metallic, but in an elevated way; her skin moved like flesh, unlike that of the synths with cheap alloy shells. As Tony approached, she held up a martini glass by way of greeting and took a sip.
Sitting down, Tony almost made a crack about what she was drinking—motor oil, perhaps—but he caught himself and, instead, voiced his genuine curiosity: “Does that do anything for you?”
She smiled, nodding. “Some of my organs are biological synthetics, and my brain is stimulated by many of the same hormones and chemicals that affect humans.”
“Think the bartender here can make an Old Fashioned like that outfitter does?”
“Of course! That’s a hotel recipe.” Her silver eyes had irises of concentric rings that pulsed with a soft white glow as she looked toward the bar. “Coming right up.”
“Ah, nice.” Tony leaned back and tried to push away his dark mood, but Titania was more perceptive than most humans he’d met.
“You seemed cross when you walked into the bar. Did your meeting go poorly?”
Tony sighed, trying to keep his mind focused on the present, trying to push aside the angry thoughts. “Well, in a way it went well. My contact is trying to set me up—kill me or capture me. Probably capture; I’m sure they’ve got some humiliation in mind.”
“That’s how you define something as going well?” Her golden lips curled up at the corners as she shook her head, sending her silver curls bouncing. “I don’t mean to tease, but I am curious.”
“I guess I said that because it was what I expected—maybe just sooner. Anyway, it’s good; now I can move ahead with my plans and be done with this business.”
“So, why was your expression so stormy?”
Before he could answer, the bartender synth approached with a single drink on his tray. He deposited the glass on the table and inclined his head. “Please let me know if you’d like me to change anything about the next one.”
Tony picked up the drink, admiring the perfectly round, oversized ball of ice. “Cheers.”
“Enjoy,” the synth replied, turning to walk stiffly back to the bar.
Tony sipped the bourbon, sighing as he swallowed. “Perfect. I’ve been experimenting in my room, but I couldn’t match it.”
“I’m glad you approve. It’s one of the oldest recipes on our menu.” They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, then she cleared her throat and said, “If you want to avoid the subject, I understand.”
Tony put his glass down, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s fine. The reason for my glower, Titania, is simple: I was thinking about murder—thinking about all the ways I’d like to kill that traitorous bastard.”
“Because he’s setting you up?”
“No, because of what he did prior to this setup.”
Titania clicked her tongue—a curious expression from a synth—and slowly rotated her glass, swishing the remnants of her martini around the bottom. “I’ve been around a while, Mr. Shepherd, and I fear I’m all too familiar with the perils of vengeance. So many clients on that road—I’ve rarely seen any made happier by their efforts.”
Tony stared into his drink as she spoke; her words registered, but he wasn’t in the right headspace to take advice. He wanted to set his drink down, get up, and walk off—not to his room, but outside. Where to? He wasn’t sure yet, but—
“I see I’ve overstepped. Shall we change the subject? I wonder, have you ever been outside the city?”
The shift in tone and topic worked to jar Tony out of his dark contemplations, if only for a moment. He nodded. “I did a few jobs for my old employer in different cities. Might as well have just stayed here, though, for all I saw. One cluster of megatowers is pretty much the same as another, you know?”
“True. You never ventured outside the cities?”
Tony shook his head. “Nah. Didn’t have enough time for that…” He trailed off, searching his memory and seeing the words for the lie that they were. “The truth is, I was stupid. I came from a shitty neighborhood, so to me, making it had more to do with nice hotel rooms and fancy dinners than seeing the sights. As far as I was concerned, Phoenix was the same as New Manhattan, only hotter when you walked from the hotel to your meeting.”
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“I’ve heard Phoenix has a large abandoned zone. Did you drive through that at all?”
“Hmm, no, but I remember looking out the plane window at the never-ending urban sprawl and my PAI told me most of it was abandoned. People moved into the megastructures after one of the wars.”
“That’s what I’ve read, as well.” Titania smiled and sipped her drink.
“Don’t you travel?”
She shook her head. “I’ve always told myself I would, but you know how life is. One gets busy with the matters at hand, and the days slip by, turning into weeks and years. I suppose it’s a testament to my engagement here; every day holds fresh surprises.” She set her glass down and leaned forward, smiling. “Last week, I wouldn’t have imagined I’d be sharing a drink with an interesting guest like yourself, for instance.”
Tony snorted, shaking his head. “You give me too much credit. I’m a poor conversationalist, especially…lately.” He shrugged.
“Might I pry in a different direction? Earlier, you mentioned that your heart belonged to someone else. Is that a subject you’d be willing to discuss?”
“My heart?”
“More precisely, the one who holds its key. Care to tell me about…her?”
Tony swirled his drink, letting the amber liquid pass over the dried, sugar-coated orange peel. “She’s the best thing in my life. Best thing that’s ever been in my life.” He shrugged. “I’d like to tell you all about her—her interests, her personality, what she looks like. I won’t, though. Not yet; you see, my vendetta isn’t so much about vengeance as it is about getting out from under a dark cloud.”
“Ah.” Titania looked toward the bar, then back to him. “I believe I’m seeing the picture a little more clearly. You’re worried about how far you can trust me.” Tony shrugged, and she continued, “Understandable. Especially after those strangers broke into your room under my watch.” She emphasized strangers, and Tony had a feeling she’d put the pieces together.
“Nah, it’s not you. I can’t afford to trust anyone right now.” Another wave of irritation washed over Tony, and he found he simply couldn’t tolerate sitting there another minute. He put his drink down and slid out of the booth. “I’m not good company tonight, Titania. I hope I can make it up to you sometime.”
“Mr. Shepherd—”
“Tony. At least we can be on a first-name basis, right?”
“Of course! Tony, I’m sorry I brought up so many sensitive subjects. I—”
Tony was walking away, but he paused and looked at her, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize. You tried to have an interesting conversation with me, and I’m just not in the right headspace.” With a last nod, he walked out of the restaurant, but when he stood on the polished marble of the lobby, looking toward the elevators, another impulse asserted itself, and he walked toward the exit.
“Should I call a cab?” Nora asked.
“Yeah, anonymously.” There were a few taxi services that advertised their discretion, dealing with clients on a bits-up-front basis, promising no recording inside the cab, and no saved record of trips. Most people used them to cheat on a spouse or take meetings their current employer wouldn’t approve of. Tony had something else in mind.
“There’s an eleven-minute wait for a DarkCab, but they’re the fastest at the moment.”
“Fine.” Tony stuffed his hands in his pockets, nodded to the doorman, and stepped out into the chilly weather. He walked a little way down the sidewalk, not wanting Titania to know he was standing out there, waiting for a cab. He couldn’t say why he cared, but he supposed it was because she’d been kind and he didn’t like the idea of anyone worrying about him.
Displaying a perfect sense of ironic timing, Nora said, “I’m sorry your meeting with Titania didn’t go well, Tony.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Do you want to talk about what you have planned?”
“No.”
When he was a block from the hotel, he stood on the curb and stared at the slush-covered street, counting the infrequent cars and trucks that passed as he awaited his ride. He was at twenty-seven when it pulled up—a sleek, dark-gray sedan. Even as it pulled to a stop, the rear gull-wing door opened, revealing a plush synth-leather interior. Tony sat down, the door closed, and a calm, matter-of-fact woman’s voice asked, “Destination?”
“Kinzoku Tower.”
The cab pulled out, and Nora said, “The reservation fee was 100 Sol-bits. The cab is requesting an additional 49.”
“Pay it.”
He rode in silence for a few minutes, watching the lights and holographic advertisements on the sides of the buildings they passed. He didn’t have a clear plan for what he was going to do, but he knew he didn’t want to be seen doing it. “Is the image scrambling software for my optics up to date?”
“I update the firmware for all of your cybernetics weekly, and each night I update all operating software.”
“Check anyway.”
He watched out the window for another block before Nora announced, “Your cybernetic eye implants are up to date.”
“Good, now check the firearms policy for Kinzoku Tower.”
“Small arms only. Your mass driver may be flagged on certain levels, but most checkpoints will wave you through because of its pistol format and relatively low caliber.”
Tony snorted. The policy was an excellent example of bureaucratic nonsense—caliber was an outdated means for determining a weapon’s destructive potential. As the thought passed through his mind, a voice in the back of his skull clamored for attention, and he cracked and listened to it for just a second: was he really going to risk everything?
To shut it up and to give himself the illusion that he wasn’t about to do anything so utterly reckless that he ought to have his head examined, he opened his secure messaging app and mentally typed out a note to Addie:
Ads,
Things are moving faster than I thought they would. Eric and Jen messed up, and it looks like our window is opening up next Friday. Can you be ready? If you can make your way to District One before then with the gear Glitch needs, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll have to find a way to stall.
He stared at what he’d written, feeling like he was lying to her, even though he wasn’t. He frowned. Was it a lie not to tell someone something? “A lie of omission,” he mused aloud.
“What, Tony? Did you want to tell me something?”
“No.” He turned back to the note.
I can’t wait to see you.
-T
He hit send, feeling guilty, but knowing there was nothing he could do about it. “I’m weak without her.”
“Tony, I feel like there’s something you want to talk about.”
“Nope.”
Tony pressed his head against the cold glass, occasionally catching glimpses of his destination as the cab navigated the one-way streets toward the building. Kinzoku Tower was as tall as most of the megastructures near it, but it was slender—a needle among daggers. Its lights were predominantly yellow, making it stand out even more among all the shades of blue and red, pink, and amber. It was an expensive piece of property, and only the richest, most successful professionals held offices there. Most of them would be shuttered at that time of night, but not the one he wanted to visit.
When the cab approached the building, the AI asked, “Would you like me to park or deposit you near the front entry?”
“The front.”
“Your image scrambling is active, Tony,” Nora said, something in her tone reminding him of a girlfriend trying to earn points with an abusive boyfriend. He snorted softly, shaking his head at his imagination.
As the cab pulled up to the curb, the door swung wide, and Tony climbed out onto the sidewalk. Even in the wee hours of the morning, there were pedestrians walking by. It made sense; this was the beating heart of New Manhattan, and there were twenty-four-hour shifts in most of the markets. From where he stood, Tony could see megastructures belonging to at least seven international conglomerates—industries that employed millions all over the globe. There wasn’t any such thing as “sleep” where those corps were concerned.
He walked up the steps to the main entrance, ignoring the sleepy corpo-sec officer on duty as he looked his way. He passed through the scanner array inside the doors. It flashed red, and the building AI messaged him:
Visual artifacts are preventing your identification. You’ll need to register with me, or security will escort you from the premises.
Tony stepped to the side, approaching an information kiosk. He looked at the screen and said, “SOA Operator ID 26778.”
A pleasant feminine voice with a posh English accent came from the kiosk: “Biometric verification required. Please provide a fingerprint for analysis.”
Tony pressed his thumb on the scanner beside the screen.
“Identity confirmed. Welcome to Kinzoku Tower, Shepherd. Please state your business.”
“I’m here to collect a bounty.”
“Please be aware that Kinzoku Tower policy insists on proper escalation of force. Peaceful apprehension is paramount.”
“Understood.”
“Please state the subject of your bounty.”
“Unknown at this time. I’m conducting an investigation before confirming the identity.”
“Please maintain an open dialogue with Kinzoku Tower during your investigation. Your future welcome here will depend upon your level of cooperation during your efforts. I’ve sent communication protocols to your PAI.”
“Understood. May I carry on?”
“Happy hunting, Shepherd.”
Tony followed the signs to the elevator, and as he walked, he subvocalized, “Nora, I want you to take out a bounty with the SOA. The complaints are illegal harvesting of cybernetic implants for sale or profit, kidnapping…and we might as well throw on attempted murder.”
“I’ll need the names of the complainant and the accused.”
“The complainant is me, and the accused is Doctor Raul Chavez.”
“I see. And the bounty amount?”
Tony shrugged as he touched the elevator call button. “Whatever the minimum is.”
“Very well. I’ve submitted a bounty of 100 Sol-bits for the apprehension of Doctor Raul Chavez for questioning regarding the charges you just outlined. Tony, you realize that if questions are raised, you’ll likely face an SOA internal review.”
“Yep. Happy to comply.” Tony stepped into the elevator. As the doors slid closed, he reached down and loosened his mass-driver in the holster. “Anyway, something tells me the subject is going to resist—should make the paperwork easier.”
