Chapter Twelve
"Run fast, shoot straight, and never ever cut a deal with a dragon."
-Street Proverb
Club Prenumbra
Seattle, UCAS
November 4, 2059
10:03 pm
Fluid Motions by Soma. That was the name of the song. Slow and playful, yet warm and comforting at the same time. Soft vocals punctuate the smooth sounds. It flowed from speakers and filled the dancers with its moving rhythm.
Tart let that rhythm flow through her. Happiness filled her for the first time in a long while. Not sense last year had she felt so completely at peace. Most importantly there was no fear. No fear of how she looked or what other people thought.
"I didn't think you would say 'yes'." Tart admitted.
"Why?"
Tart shrugged, preferring not to answer with words. Preferring not to answer at all.
"I never got a chance to thank you." He said.
"What for?"
"Pulling us out last night."
Tart gave a shy smile. "I didn't really do anything."
"You're anything saved us."
"Let's not talk about that now."
"Fine with me."
They moved in silence once again. It was bittersweet to feel like they fit in. For a while they were just like everyone else. Not criminals. Not shadowrunners. Just people.
"Are you happy, Nightsky?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you happy?"
He didn't say anything.
"You're not answering?"
He shook his head. "Shard asked me the same question a few months ago. I didn't know how to answer then. She told me that if I had to think about it then I obviously wasn't happy."
"Oh," Tart leaned her head against his shoulder again. "You know one of the things I've always wanted? I wanted to fit in. I never liked being around people because it always felt like I didn't belong. Now I actually feel I'm somewhere I belong. I can see myself doing this for a long time. What about you? What have you always wanted?"
"I don't know."
"Don't know? But where do you see yourself a year from now?"
"I haven't thought much about the future."
Tart felt a tinge of anxiety build inside her. "But-How can you be happy not knowing where you're going to be?"
"I don't think about it."
She frowned, casting her eyes to the floor. "So you are going to stay in the shadows and not think about where it takes you? I don't understand. It doesn't seem like you get much happiness out of it."
"What were you hoping out of life? Family? Children maybe?"
She shrugged. "Maybe."
Nightsky didn't say anything for a few minutes. His gaze seemed to pass around the dancers. Tart felt uneasy as the silence settled between them. She tried to focus on the music, so lose her thoughts in its flowing rhythms, but she couldn't find the beat as easily as she did before.
"You don't see yourself retiring? Growing old?"
"No." He admitted. "I wouldn't know how to live outside these shadows. I will not succumb to old age either."
"You can't really believe that. Can you?"
"I won't live a long life." He said abruptly. "I've come to accept that. You waste your time worrying about me."
Tart was speechless. The happiness shattered like a delicate scultpure. In one swift swoop Nightsky brought the harness of reality back to her. It was so harsh and cold of him to say it without a second thought to himself or how he sounded. They stopped dancing. the two of them stood perfectly still amid a rolling sea of humanity. She stared at him in various stages of disbelief.
She backed away. Slowly at first. Then she turned and disappeared into the crowd.
"Tart?" Nightsky called, but she winded her way through the crowd quicker than he would have given her credit. He frowned, cursing under his breath. He considered going after her, but someone grabbed his arm. He spun around to come face to face with Cinder.
"Hoi, Night. Ready for the game?"
"Game?" He gave the spellsplinger a quizzical look. "What game?"
"The card game, remember?"
"Card game? Oh, yeah. Right. Card game."
"Everybody's waiting. It's setup by the kitchen. Come on."
Nightsky glanced in Tart's direction, but he couldn't see her. He let a quiet sigh, one of giving up, then followed Cinder. "I'm ready. Let's go."
The music faded near the back of the club where it bleed off to the buffet tables and the kitchen. Cinder had claimed a large table here. It was dimly lite from a creaky old fixture. Lights from the dance floor dashed across its surface at predictable intervals. There were six comfortable looking synthleather chairs surrounding the table. Half of which were occupied. One by the eccentric samurai himself, Smiley. A piece of eye candy hung on his shoulders. The second a man with a tall man with flawless hair casually chatted a with a stunning redhead next to him. The man wore his fine suit casually. The collar was undone.
"Where the hell is Guido?" Cinder groaned. "He was just here."
"He's making one last pass at the buffet."
Cinder mumbled something about the troll before getting around to introductions. "Everyone this is Nightsky. I assume you know everyone here."
"Indeed." The tall man said as he stood and offered his hands. "How do you do this evening, Nightsky?"
Nightsky regarded his hand. "Do I know you?"
"I would think so. My name is Cliff."
Cinder nudged him. "From the crash, remember?"
"Crash? Oh, yeah." Nightsky shook his hand after his memory got jogged. Cliff had hired them to pick up David Hague when Flight 1118 plowed into the Redmond Barrens last summer. Cliff was a Johnson for the Draco Foundation back then.
"I didn't expect you to remember me. It seemed that you and the others were concerned with more important matters at the time." Cliff took a seat. "I've been working closely with Hector these past few months. It has proven to be an profitable business strategy for the both of us."
"I bet it has."
Nightsky took a seat just as Guido the Troll lumbered over with a plateful of the buffet's finest. The hulking monstrosity of meat and muscle settle into an oversized chair. The table was big enough to accommodate the troll's platter and his immense size.
"We ready?" Smiley hissed.
"Not yet." Cinder said, sparing a glance at the single empty seat. "There should be one more-"
"Here." A rough voice boomed.
It came from a ork with a rugged and scared face. Tattoos ate their way up one heavily muscled arm while the other gleamed with chrome and metal. Beady eyes were set far back into his bony skull like some kind of neanderthal.
Nightsky gave an involuntary jerk "Gideon!? What the hell are you doing here?"
The ork grunted, rubbing one of his rounded tusks. He took a seat across from the adept. "Got back in Seattle and had an invitation on my telecom. Thought it'd be a good place to see who's still around."
Nightsky eyed the ork suspiciously as he hunkered into his chair. He hadn't seen Gideon since the summer. After that ordeal he hadn't expected to hear from him again. Seeing him now brought up a host of old memories. Before he had been too exhausted to care. Now enough time had passed to allow the harsh feelings to fester. Somewhere in the recesses of Nightsky's mind a the dark thing came back. It reached out with its black tendrils, burying them deep within his soul. For a moment, Nightsky gauged his chances of putting Gideon down.
Cinder pulled out a fresh deck of cards as Cliff shooed away the joygirls that had been entertaining him. "Gideon, there you are." He greeted. "What have you been up to?"
"Yes, Gideon." Nightsky slowly settled in his chair. His voice carried an accusing tone. Even now the ork's eyes watched him warily. Nightsky suddenly became aware that his own hand was snaking towards his pistol. It had done so without much thought. "What have you been up to?"
Gideon brushed it off. "Biz and a chip of pleasure. Word has it you've been busy too."
"Working with Lenny." Nightsky replied coldly. "I didn't think you'd be back in Seattle."
"Things change."
"Not everything." His hand crept towards his pistol again. The blackness pushed him for action, trying to show how easy it would be to pull the Browning and put a 10mm round into the ork's gut. Yes, it would be nice. Think of it. Make the ork pay for everything he has done. To Imira. To Alona. To his family.
"If you're done saying hello I'd like to get this game started!" Cinder growled as he shuffled the cards. The spellslinger's impatient hadn't changed. "The game is Broken Spades. Five-hundred 'yen gets you in. Joker high and low. Nine books a hand. Each book is ten points. If you get five over-books you have to put three hundred in the pot."
Gideon set a bottle of rum on the table. "Certified 'yen only. Drink, Nightsky?"
"Not thirsty." Nightsky almost considered that an insult. His fingers crept a little closer to the pistol. They fell away after glancing around the table. The black thing in his soul protested, but the more rational part of his mind knew that it wasn't the prudent thing to do.
"Are you two going to yap or play cards?" Smiley hissed.
"Deal." Gideon grunted. "Less you got a problem with this, Nightsky?"
"No. No problem." Nightsky straightened in his seat. "If you came all the way up here to play cards with us I can at least do the same. After all, this isn't business."
The way Nightsky said business left Gideon thinking. He watched the adept carefully after that. The task would have been easier if her knew how much the adept had forgiven him since the summer, or how much had arisen since then. It could be due to something else. After all, forgiveness is one thing, but trust is something completely different. Gideon knew that Nightsky probably didn't trust him, but was willing to bet that his life wasn't in any immediate danger. If Gideon could show that he had put the past behind him maybe Nightsky would follow suit. Nevertheless the two barely let their gaze waver as Cinder dealt the cards.
"Make your bids, chummers." Cinder grinned. "We've got a long game ahead of us."
Gideon settled in his oversized chair as he collected his cards. Make his bets, huh? Gideon was willing to lay a few things on the line. He wondered if Nightsky would do the same.
11:01 pm
"Tart!"
Tart turned to see who had called her name. It was a tall human in form-fitting red synthleather. Her hair was shaved so close it was little more than a red fuzz. A dayglow nose ring proudly advertised its home on her left nostril. There was a vague scent of stale beer and engine exhaust about her.
"Yes, Rave?" Tart was no big fan of this razorgirl. A few months ago Rave had been hired as a bodyguard while Tart worked in the Matrix. In that time Rave had proven herself to be crude and somewhat inexperienced. Back then it showed in her eagerness to please Hector and Lenny, but around she had a bad attitude when around Tart.
"Where's Lenny?"
"I don't know."
Rave didn't seem very happy with that answer. "Look, know you don't like me. I don't give a slot. I'm looking for Lenny's company, not your's."
"Honestly, Rave, I don't know." Tart spoke in her usual, quiet voice. "I think he and Shard left."
"Shard, huh? That daisy eater." Rave grumbled, obviously thinking of less than pleasant ways to express her disgust with the elfin mage.
"Evening, ladies." Findler slide up between the two, wrapping his arms around them. Tart visibly jerked. His sudden arrival startled her. The position of his hand only amplified it. "I got to confess, Tart, that you look a lot better than you did last night."
"Thank you, Findler."
Findler was referring to her condition after being dumped from the Matrix. Rave took it to mean something else. The razor gloated loudly and teased her.
"Isn't that a funny chip? I didn't know you liked them this big and brawn." Rave ran a sharp fingernail over Findler's chest. "Hmm...nice and big too. That's what I like about orks too."
"No, that's not what he meant."
"Awe, come on. It's okay to admit that you like the tusky kind." Rave smiled devilishly. "Just don't be like that slitch, Shard. Share and share alike. I'm sure Findler would be up to a three-way." She teased Findler with the tip of her fingernail by running it into some of the less public parts of his anatomy. "That is if you think you can handle both of us, lumpy."
Tart was about to turn away, but something short and squat bumped into her.
"Whoops!" Riggs shouted, nearly falling flat on his face before he realized what had happened. The dwarf gave a drunken bellow as he stumbled to find his footing. One hand had a half empty bottle of some green liquor. A lit cigar was clinched between his fat lips. "Sorry 'bout that! Did see you up there!"
Tart had admit that she was actually happy to see the little drunken rigger. Alona was with him. Apparently both of them had been thoroughly enjoying the night. Both of them were a bit tipsy.
"Tart! Ah my good chummer! I haven't seen you in...........TEN MINUTES!" " Riggs clasped her hand in a hearty handshake and promptly exploded into hysterical laughter. "You're my number uno omae! My favorite decker! Did you know that? Want to know why? Because you don't bitch like them other halfscans!"
"Hi, Tart." Alona greeted. "Have you seen Nightsky?"
"He's playing cards."
"You know, Tart, you may not be my favorite omae for long. I've been getting to know Alona here and I think I like her better. Want to know why?"
Tart did really care one way or the other, but she didn't think Riggs expected her to answer.
"Because she's the only one that dances worse than I do!"
"Do not! You're just short and squat."
"And proud of it!" Riggs laughed so hard he looked like a jiggling jello ball.
Findler suddenly spoke up after he had gotten Rave's hand out of his pants for a few minutes. "Hoi, Riggs. How's it 'jacking?"
Riggs suddenly got a clear look in his eye. "Findler? What the frag are you doing here?"
The wide grin on the dwarf's face suddenly faded. Somewhere in the rigger's mind alcohol soaked brain cells started to sent out warnings. The paranoid center of his mind started firing off electrical impulses.
"Mixing and mingling, can't you tell?"
"But Hector didn't give you an invitation. I know. I remember things like that." Riggs rubbed his nose. "No, I'm sure of it. He didn't give you an envelope yesterday."
If Findler was nervous about the dwarf's accusation he didn't show it. "I know. I met up with Smiley earlier. He said that I should come to this thing. I thought what the hell. Smiley said I would have a great time."
"Smiley said all of that, huh?" Riggs smacked his lips.
"That's right short, squat, and stumpy." Rave wrapped her arms around the ork's shoulders and pressed her body against his. "The three of us are having a three-way slot tonight. You can't come. No halfers allowed."
Alona gave a surprised glance at Tart who shook her head.
"I need some fresh air." Tart excused herself.
"Look us up later girl and we'll do some slotting at my place!" Rave called as Tart disappeared into the crowd.
"Come on," Findler motioned Rave onto the dance floor. "How about a preview?"
"You want to see some of my tricks, huh? Come on, tusky, I'll show you just how hot a breeder can be."
The two fondled their way onto the dance floor.
Riggs watched them go. That drug soaked brain of his began putting pieces together. The hazy picture he was coming up with slowly turned the gears of the great paranoia machine inside the dwarf's skull. Any other person might have dismissed the whole thing. Especially under the influence of alcohol. Not Riggs. If anything it had improved that part of his personality.
"Riggs, let's go play pool. I'm awful, but I think against you I stand a good chance of winning." Alona suggested.
Riggs didn't hear her at first. "What? Huh? Pool? In a tick. Where's Hector? You see him."
Alona looked around. "I think I see him by the bar."
"I need to talk to Hector."
"Okay, great. I was wanting to see him again."
"Uh, no, uh. That's not frosty. Go play pool. I need to talk to Hector about something important. Really important. Really quick too."
Riggs waddled off leaving Alona standing alone. She wondered what could be so important that he jolted the dwarf out of his drunken mood.
11:20 pm
A lively beat flowed from the dance floor as Gideon took a gulp from his drink. The game had been going steady for nearly an hour. It wasn't much of a contest anymore. Cliff and Cinder held a commanding lead over the pack. Guido was more than three hundred points in the hole. I thick haze of smoke had settled over the table. Most of it was from Cliff's cigars. Guido had also indulged in a few other the course of the game.
Gideon glanced over his cards. There wasn't a single trump in his hand. That didn't stop him from betting high. The pot had already grown to over five-thousand nuyen thanks largely to Gideon's aggressiveness and Guido's stupidity.
"Six books Gideon? You'll never get away with that drek."
"Worry about your hand not mine."
"You're money." Cinder looked over his cards before offering his bid. "Two."
"That won't win the pot." Cliff said articulately, arranging his cards. "Three."
Frag him, Gideon thought. Three books was all Cliff needed to win.
"Smiley? You bidding or you playing with yourself."
Smiley merely smiled at Cinder and gave him the finger. It took a moment for Cinder realize that the samurai meant that finger as his bid as well as an insult.
"Two." Nightsky said.
"Me, Guido bid...er......." Guido mumbled. The troll counted his cards with one meaty finger. The trolls immense hands nearly swallowed the tiny playing cards. The good think about that was that there was no chance of anyone seeing them. "Me, Guido, say four. Guido wike four."
Cinder wrote the bids on a plastic score sheet. "Okay, chummers, it's time for the throw down." He opened with a spade. "Play them if you've got them."
"You frags hear the one about the joygirl and the chiphead?" Smiley said.
The table gave mixed nods.
Smiley played his card. "Well, it goes like this. There was a joygirl working the sprawl in Loveland. She had a slow night and she none to happy about. Just down the street there's a chiphead who wants a fresh BTL to slide into his cranium. Only thing is he just burned his last chip dry. So now he's got to find his chipper to slot him some pleasure. Problem is the chiphead's so fragged that he doesn't know where his chipper is."
"Is this another one of those stories with a moral?" Cinder asked, playing around round. "Cause if it is I don't want to hear it."
"Slot off and let me finish!" Smiley snapped. "Anyway. This chiphead goes wondering around the street with the burnt chip in hand. He comes across the joygirl who had the slow night. She says to him: 'Hey, handsome, want a real good trip?' Now the chiphead thinks trip and he's sold. So the little fragger nods his head real stupid like. 'Wiz' the joygirl says 'We'll go to my doss' so the joygirl and the chiphead crawl up into her doss. Now the chiphead's real happy cause he's thinking he's going to get a real good BTL trip. So while the joygirl's getting ready the chiphead jacks himself into his 'deck and waves his burnt chip in the air. When the joygirl comes back the chiphead's laying naked on the floor holding the chip in the air. Now she don't see the jack or the deck on account that the deck's under the chiphead's clothes and the jacks hid by hair. 'Slot me!' the chipheader calls and waves the chip. 'Slot you?' says the joygirl cause she's normally the one that gets slotted. 'Slot me!' the chipper says again and 'With that?' the joygirl asks. 'Frag yes with this!' the chipper replies. So the-"
"I had to interrupt such an entertaining story, Smiley." Cliff said. "But it's your play."
Smiley grumbled something and tossed a card. The game had carried on while he had been rambling.
Cliff trumped it. "That's it people." He declared. "The pot is mine."
A series of groans erupted around the table.
"Can I finish my story now?" Smiley wondered.
A series of deeper groans erupted around the table. Cliff took his credstick and politely excused himself from what would doubtlessly by a gross tale. Cinder promptly excused himself, saying that he needed to make a security round. Smiley protested and tagged along with the spellslinger. Cinder wouldn't be getting out of the story that easily. Ten minutes later Guido finally got it through his thick skull that the game was over. He left to refill his buffet tray.
Nightsky eyed Gideon from across the table. "Good game, huh?"
"Yeah." Gideon collected the cards.
"Stop. Let's talk."
Gideon settled into his seat. "Biz?"
"Personal."
The ork grunted. He took the bottle from the table and topped off his glass. He offered the bottle to the adept. He declined wordlessly.
"Been a while, Gideon."
Gideon looked passed Nightsky's shoulder. "Looks like the girl is still with you."
"Yes."
"You didn't keep it business."
"Neither did you." He reminded.
Gideon took a gulp from his glass. "There's an old saying in the shadows. Shoot straight, run fast, and never ever cut a deal with a dragon. There's another one that says not to make biz personal."
"Sometimes business makes itself personal."
"Why you come the frag don't you come out and say it?" Gideon growled.
"I can't."
"The frag you can. Get it out. No more fragging around with words. Words are for suits and corpies. You're not a suit and you're sure as frag not a corpie."
Nightsky didn't say anything.
The ork mumbled something as he fingered his tusk. He played the cards. It was just something to do as he spoke. "Word has it that you've been doing some wetwork on personal time."
Nightsky didn't answer.
"Wetwork that's not contracted. The kind of wetwork that's done from hate."
Nightsky kept silent.
Gideon pounded his fist on the table. "Fragging slot. You're drekking with this. You'll get yourself geeked you keep this up. You'll get her geeked too."
"You don't have any right to talk about her!" Nightsky snapped. "It's because of you that her mother's dead. Imira's dead because of you!"
"I saved you're hoop!"
"You hung it up in the first place!" Nightsky almost stood, flexing the muscles in his arm. Another half a twist and the snapblade there would pop. It would be a simple matter to leap across the table and bury the dikoted chunk of metal in the ork's skull.
The thought of such an act brought an old demon up in Nightsky's soul. The same one that craved the rush of pure violence and hate. All it needed was a little push. It begged for that push.
Gideon, unfazed, took another gulp from his glass. "It was biz."
"Was it biz when you broke into my home all those years ago?" He knew the answer before he asked. The black demon growled in anticipation. It sensed hate and anger building up, but saw the bars of restraint placed across the thrill of revenge. It hissed in defiance.
"It was just biz. I thought you would have forgotten about all of that by now. Guess you just can't let go."
"Would you?"
"You can't change a thing!" Gid roared. "I can't change a thing either. Drekking over it isn't going to accomplish a fragging thing either. Slot it and move on."
"Do you know why I'm so stuck on it? Forget all the bad blood. It's all a sense of loss. I keep wondering what kind of life I would have had if you hadn't shown up that night. I wonder how my childhood would have been spent. Not on the streets of the Barrens, that's for sure. I even wonder if Alona's life would be different now. Better maybe." Nightsky leaned back in his chair. "It's something that could've been, but wasn't."
"You think you could actually be happy living any other life than this one?"
"I don't know." Nightsky admitted. "Probably."
"Doesn't make a drek of a difference. If I hadn't been there Darvish would've gotten someone else. Things would've still turned out the same. Only I wouldn't have been there to save your hoop."
"Frag off."
Gideon made a frown. Then topped off his glass again.
"Do you remember the last thing I said in California?" Nightsky asked.
"I remember you babbling some drek to the girl about building a new life and all that drek." The ork looked around. "You're new life looks a lot like the old one."
"Do you remember the last thing I said to you."
Gideon took another gulp from the glass. His vision blurred for a moment as the alcohol flooded his system. He nodded a yes.
"I haven't forgotten either."
"Nightsky?" Alona called from behind them. "Come and play pool. Riggs is too easy to beat. He wants to play three-way. He has already claimed six through ten. I'm one through five."
"I'll be there in one moment." He yelled back.
"Nice girl though." Gideon said after Alona had turned back to the pool tables. "Pity she doesn't know the whole truth."
"She knows, Gideon. I told her everything Imira told me."
"I wasn't talking about that. I meant she doesn't know the whole truth about you."
Nightsky frowned. "What makes you say that?"
"Because if she knew she wouldn't be hanging around here." Gideon got up. "Enjoy you're game. I'll see you around."
As the ork left he considered the mercenary's words. As far as he knew he had been honest with Alona. She knew what kind of life he led. There had even been time where she bore witness to some of the actions that life demanded. With this in mind Nightsky began to wonder what Gideon had meant by the truth. Was there something he had neglected to tell her?
And, if so, why had he neglected it?
"Nightsky!" Riggs bellowed. "You coming or what?"
Nightsky stood and straightened his jacket. Might as well. There was little else to do tonight. He grabbed the ork's bottle of rum on impulse.