Part Two: Cold Blooded
Chapter 1
Once More, With Feeling
Fife Neighborhood
Tacoma, Seattle
March 16, 2059
5:35 pm
Smiley's phone wailed an annoying buzz that ruined his tormented sleep. He plopped his hand on the floor and searched for the infernal device before it's noise drove him insane.
"Mmph..." A voice feminine winched from the other side of the mattress. "Make it stop."
His hand rooted through the days old refuse of empty soybeer cans and rotten takeout boxes. He finally ran across his phone underneath a nylon g-string. He clicked it open and held it up against his ear.
"Someone had better be dead to be calling me now." Smiley cursed through the small speaker.
"Whoa, hey there. No reason to get nasty with me." A pudgy voice replied.
Smiley didn't recognize who it was, therefore there was no reason to listen to him.
"It's five in the afternoon, a sociable hour don't you know." He continued. "My name's Weezer. Is this Smiley?"
Smiley grunted into the phone. A slim arm with green-painted fingernails draped over his shoulder. "I don't know you, so fuck off."
Weezer seemed to giggle. "They said you were a little edgy. I've gotten some good words on you, Smiley. They streets ask: Who is willing to take on anything? The reply is: Smiley. The question: Who isn't afraid of a wizworm." Weezer gloated, a deep, fat laugh that drown out everything else. "The reply: Smiley! The question: Who is--"
"--about to take your head off if you don't shut the fuck up." Smiley spat, laying his head back on his mattress. "What you want, pisser?"
"Weezer, actually."
"Weezer," Smiley shrugged, "Pisser, same thing."
"Well, chap, if you want to be that way about it." Weezer acted like he was about to hang up.
"Hey, I didn't ask you to disturb my beauty rest or my beauty." Smiley replied, becoming annoyed. "You probably heard I got a short fuse. I'll let you know that you're standing on the end of it. You wake me up with your call then hangup I'm going to be very unhappy. What the fuck do you want?"
"I got a job for you." Came the reply. "Interested?"
Smiley didn't say anything right off. Instead he lowered his head a little in the appearance of being in deep thought. "Is it going to be fun?" He asked.
Weezer was struck by the question. It wasn't one that he normally got from a shadowrunner he was looking to hire. He had heard that Smiley, by reputation, was a little odd. It was also a good idea not to mess with him because the character had no self control when dealing with others. "Uh...yeah, Smiley, it'll be fun."
"What kind?"
"The kind you make money at." Weezer replied.
"I can make money by shooting ghouls and that's fun too."
"You want to know more? Fine, I'll tell you more." Weezer said. "But not over a phone, omae. You know the Motel 7 over on Grisdor in Tacoma?"
"Yeah, I know the drekhole." Smiley said, pulling himself up on his mattress as his bed-mate pushed her long red hair out of her eyes.
"Meet me there at ten tonight room two thirty." Weezer explained. "I'll let you know then."
"Okay, pisser, I'll be there."
"Weez-" The voice cried just before Smiley cut off the call. He switched the phone off so he would be getting anymore rings.
"Who was that?" The redhead asked as she sat up on the mattress. Smiley's didn't have a bed. Instead all he had was a worn out mattress laying on the floor surrounded by a sea of refuse in his dark little corner of the sprawl.
"A pisser."
The redhead looked at him with confusion. Like the samurai didn't have good sense.
Smiley picked up the girl's g-string from the floor and threw it at her. "Get dressed, I got things to do."
She frowned at him. "Aren't we in a naughty mood today?"
"No more than any other, Red." Smiley cursed as he searched for some clothes to wear amid his unwashed pile. "Hurry the frag up."
Darlington Neighborhood, Everett
6:00 pm
"I've got some more news on that." Tart said as she pulled out a small stack of printouts from her bag. She seemed a bit nervous to be sitting alone in Lenny's apartment. Ever since the group had pulled off the datasteal at ParaTeck, he had asked her to keep an eye out for anything in the news about the company. "I ran a frame through a bulletin board last night and came up with this news story from a paper in Ft. Lewis."
Lenny plucked the clear-plastic printout from the young girls hands and read through it. It came from a paper that only went around a relatively small area in Ft. Lewis. That included the same area where the ParaTeck research center was located. Thus anything going on there was of an interest to Lenny.
He held the paper in his hands, under a dim light, and read over it:
Fire at ParaTeck
Last night a small company called ParaTeck received a rude awakening. Apparently a faulty gas line in one of their Fort Lewis research facilities had a leak. In some way the gas was ignited which resulted in a massive explosion that leveled more than half of the building. Corporate officials for ParaTeck are outraged at the damage. ParaTeck stored most all of it's research data on an offline computer system to avoid any trouble from prying eyes. Unfortunately it's estimated that more than half of the research center's data was lost in the explosion. This makes hard times for ParaTeck as it is forced to once again layoff workers.
Beneath the story was another focusing on Seattle's congressional seat. Lenny ignored that one, finding it to be boring and of little interest "I doubt a leaky gas line would've leveled half the building." Lenny said.
"Do you want to know something else about it?" Tart wondered.
"Sure."
"You remember the lab that we had into." Tart asked, Lenny nodded. "Well, that lab was wiped out in the explosion. Everything about the file that we stole is gone."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yes, I checked ParaTeck's classified reports. Everything related to Rankers 102 was lost in the explosion."
Lenny leaned back in his chair, pondering. The explosion at ParaTeck had taken place the night before. It seemed convenient to him that the research data they were hired to steal had now been wiped clean from the system. He didn't believe for a moment that a gas line caused the explosion either. Though he wouldn't say it out loud, he believed that Mrs. Johnson had seen to the untimely setback at ParaTeck.
"I'll admit, I'm wondering what was on the file now."
Tart smiled shyly. "Sorry, but I didn't keep a copy."
"And you shouldn't have. You did the right thing in turning everything over." Lenny warned. "That was Mrs. Johnson doesn't have a reason to come after you." He tapped the news printout. "This is just another part of the game. She hired us to get the file, probably another group to knock out the hardcopy."
"Oh." Tart appeared a little naive at the corporate maneuvering that Mrs. Johnson was pulling.
"By the way, whatever happened to the chemist who was working on Rankers 102."
Tart searched her mind, trying to remember when she had downloaded that information. "David Gill."
"That's him." Lenny remembered it clearly. She had told him the night before that made the steal at ParaTeck.
"I think the company let him go."
"Laid off?"
Tart nodded. "Something like that. After losing all that research material, ParaTeck probably couldn't afford to keep him. In favor of staying in the black, they let him go." She tilted her head. Her young, innocent features appearing almost childlike to Lenny. "Do you want me to try and find him."
Lenny shook his head. "No, it's not our business anymore. But, if he shows up in the news anytime soon, let me know about it."
"Okay."
"Information is more valuable than money, Tart. It's the most valuable thing in the shadows."
Hotel 7
Tacoma, Seattle
10:15 pm
Smiley parked his car in the lot outside the motel. The dented green Eurocar didn't look as sleek and shiny as it did back in 2053. The color was now faded and covered in years of neglect. The paint was scratched and chipped in several places. The bumper also had a few notable dents. Plus there was a bullet hole in the front fender that Smiley had never bothered to fix.
He climbed the stairs up to the second floor, not bothering to conceal his approach. He walked with a stride of uncaring demeanor, the wide grin never faulting on his lips. Tonight he wore a black long coat as he always did. On the outside he attached two buttons, one a smiley face with a sinister looking grin and another that read Elvis Live in bright red letters. Underneath his coat was a simple black shirt and black cargo pants. Smiley had put some special attention into his hair tonight by spray painting it yellow in places and adding black streaks.
He came to room 230 at the end of the second floor. He tried the doorknob and found it to be open. He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. In the room were three men. Smiley's eyes looked each of them over. Two of them appeared to be bodyguards. Each of them wore an armored jacket and held the hands close to their sides. They weren't armed with anything heavier than a pistol, otherwise it could be seen easily. One of the bodyguards stood by the door, next to Smiley. The other was near the bathroom door. The third man in the room was a pig. He sat on the bed chewing on a piece of chicken with the trid blaring something about violence and elections.
"It's about time." The man on the bed said arrogantly as he buried his hand in a bucket of chicken. This had to be Weezer, the man was just as fat as he sounded over the phone. His considerable gut hung out over tacky leopard stripped paints and a flabby shirt advertising some alcoholic beverage. He snorted and grunted as he chewed the piece of chicken like it was a bone.
Smiley stepped all the way inside. As he did the bodyguard by the door closed the door behind him. "Well, I would've been here sooner," Smiley said. "Put I stepped on your pride outside the door."
The bodyguards made a tense gesture that was met with Smiley's wild eye. Weezer only chuckled at the words and took a large bite from the chicken leg.
"You got a sense of humor, I like that in a runner." He said, pointing at Smiley with the half eaten chicken. "That's a good reason for your streetname, chum. You want some chicken, I got lots."
Smiley shook his head.
"Ah, I didn't want you to have none anyway. It's my meat, get your own." Weezer threw the chicken piece back into the bucket and set it next to the bed. "Anyway, enough friendly-like talk. I got a job, a simple one, that I'm sure you can handle. Less you should be able to take care of it unless your rep is full of drek." Weezer snorted. "It's wetwork. I got a chum who wants another chum caked. It don't get much more complicated than that, huh? Uhm...you do wetwork don't you?"
"Are you fat." Smiley gave his obvious answer.
Weezer frowned. "It's a kitty-cat deal, the mark is this out of work chemist named David Gill. He's been fired for about two weeks now from some snazzy job he use to have. The pay's �15,000, all COD. So, you want to make some quick cash, huh, fragger?"
Smiley shrugged. "Why not,"
"I got it on good word that this David Gill is going to staying at the Ramada on 4th street, over in Auburn, for the next few days while he's meeting with some new boss or something like that for a job. Not sure what room he's in. Bring back photographic proof and I'll give you the dough."
"A photo?"
"Yeah, drek for brains a photo." Weezer said as he reached for his bucket of chicken. "Like a picture. You know, some proof that you did the deed."
"Ah," Smiley shook his head up and down violently. ",you want some proof. Okay, I'll bring back some proof."
"Good, you get this drek taken care of and get back here." Weezer chewed on his chicken again. "That'll give me time to get more chicken."
Smiley smiled, pulled out a pair of cheap sunglasses, and stepped out of the room. Within a few minutes he started up his car and rolled out of the lot.
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