An Honest Living

by Ben Mariner

  “Grey Market? Seriously? Doesn’t this guy pay people to keep him from making idiot mistakes or is his ego just that big?”

  I shrugged. “Dunno, but between you and me, Take’s got suspicions it ain’t no accident, which is why I’m heading down to the labor agency.”

  “Wait a minute,” she said, looking around behind me in a theatrical manner.

  “Uh, Lisa? What are you doing?”

  “Looking for the portal,” she answered, looking in the nearby trash can. “It’s gotta be around here somewhere.”

  “This is some kind of esoteric sarcasm, isn’t it?”

  “What?” she asked sarcastically. “No. I’m pretty sure I’ve just been transported to the alternate reality where everything is opposite. You using a word as big as esoteric correctly pretty much solidified my suspicions.”

  “Okay, you’ve lost me,” I admitted. “Except for the insult. I got that part.”

  “You’re trying to tell me that Hostile Takeover, AKA: the head of the Coalition of Evil, is sending you to spy on the inner workings of a company owned by Nocturno, AKA: the head of the Liberty Gang, on suspicions that his dealings might not be one hundred percent legal? Does this not seem ass backwards to you?”

  She wasn’t getting it. She didn’t realize this was my big break. That’s okay. She had her own stuff going on. I gave her one of those I-know-something-you-don’t smirk.

  “Ah, sis,” I said, patting her on the head with a massive hand. “This is why you and the nerds are down in the dungeons playing with your computers while folks like me get to swim with the sharks.”

  “You’re afraid of sharks.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It was a metaphor. The point is, we ain’t looking to bust Mister High and Mighty so much as make some inroads. If we just so happen to find out he is dabbling in shady dealings, we exploit the crap outta those weak points and get a foothold in his business. Next thing you know - BAM! - Winfield Enterprises owns a controlling share of Grey Market Grocers.”

  “Well, good luck,” said Lisa, downing what was left of her coffee. “I’ve got to get to the nerd cage. Would hate to see something happen to your computer while you’re off playing green grocer.”

  The implication in her words was practically oozing out of her mouth.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Of course I would,” she said, giving me a toothy smile and a pat on the cheek before we set off in opposite directions.

  Despite Lisa’s veiled threats of cyber terrorism and her general skepticism about my assignment, I was still flying high as I got to the labor agency. There’s something nice about knowing you’ve got the job before you even go in for the interview. I mean, this was manual labor and that’s exactly what I was cut out for - to the untrained eye, that is - so I was a shoe in, but still. It was good to know that I didn’t have to try too hard.

  Getting a job at Winfield was no easy task. Especially on the sales team. That interview process was rough. What would a salesperson need to build a to scale replica of the Lincoln Monument out of paper clips for? It’s just crazy.

  I took a few open seats between a couple of guys who probably thought they were big, but got dwarfed out by my size and looked to have some bruised egos about it. On the table in front of us was a pell mell collection of magazines that were years past their issue date. I scooped up a copy of Maxima Insider that had Take - excuse me, Mary Sue Winfield - on the cover. They were doing an expose on her foray into multi-level marketing business of useless cookware no one wanted but bought anyway.

  “Lane Raskin,” a voice called out, pulling my attention away from the magazine.

  A middle aged woman in a very smart pant suit was standing in the doorway across the room. I stood and avoided eye contact with the people around me who had shown up first but weren’t getting called.

  She gave me a look up and down, but didn’t say anything. I squeezed through the door and entered her office. Not much to speak of. Cheap desk. Cheap chairs. Pathetically few personal touches.

  “Have a seat, Mr. Raskin,” she said politely and waited for me to sit down so she could get around me to her own chair. She sat down and opened a file on her desk, looking over it briefly. “Background?”

  “Sales.”

  “Ever work in a warehouse?”

  “No.”

  “Compensation requirements?”

  “Whatever you’re payin’.”

  She made a note, closed the file, and produced a business card which she handed to me.

  The only thing printed on it was an address. The far side of town. Not great, but what’re you gonna do?

  “Report to that address at noon today,” she said, typing something into her computer, clearly over whatever kind of interview this was supposed to be.

  “Roger that, ghost rider,” I said, standing up.

  She either didn’t get the reference or chose to ignore it.

  That was a shame.

  SIX

  You ever been inside a grocery warehouse? It’s not nearly as exciting as you think. Although if you think a grocery warehouse is exciting, your life probably isn’t all that great to begin with so I apologize for ruining grocery warehouses for you. The Grey Market warehouse wasn’t any different than any other warehouse. Really humongous, row, upon row, upon row of crates and boxes. The usual. If it wasn’t for the giant logo Grey stamped on the side of the building, it would have been next to impossible to identify who the warehouse belonged to.

  There were maybe twenty of us in all having our first day. We got shuffled inside and a round of watered down punch and bland cookies were passed around. Not the worst first day of a job I’ve ever had, so far. It wasn’t until we were all corralled into a small empty space to hear Wayne Grey himself address us, that I realized I was in deep trouble.

  I was standing there amongst a group of people who would have been pretty good goons themselves when Wayne Grey appeared on a catwalk above us. He was wearing a suit that was probably worth more than three times my monthly rent, but his face was obscured by some low hanging pipes. It wasn’t the richest guy in Maxima City that had me shaken. After all, that was exactly what I was doing here, spying on that grade-A jerk. No, it was the young lady at his side that left me thunderstruck. The red hair. The blue eyes. The purple lips.

  She was just as gorgeous as the night she had left me in her wake at the bar. I tried to keep my eyes off of her, but since Wayne Grey was bizarrely obscured and left me no other focal point, I couldn’t help it. It didn’t take long for her to feel my gaze and turn hers to mine. If she recognized me at all, I couldn’t tell. She just turned her attention to something on the arm of her wheelchair.

  “And so,” Grey said boisterously, “it is you, the backbone of this business, that will make Grey Market a true success. Get out there and make us the best upscale grocery chain in the city!”

  There was a smattering of applause which I joined halfheartedly. I mean, so far as I was aware, Grey Market was going to be the only upscale grocery chain in Maxima City, so that shouldn’t be too hard.

  Before the warehouse foreman could direct us toward orientation, there was a squealing of tires, a scattering of people, and a wave of screams. I turned around just in time to see a delivery truck careening toward me at full speed. I had just enough presence of mind to notice that there was no one behind the wheel. Despite that, the tires cut hard to the right, sending the back end of the truck swinging around. The rubber caught on some invisible force and the trailer tipped toward me.

  There was no time to react. I looked at the cartoon fish on the side of the truck before it landed square on top of me, driving me into the ground. I’m sure there was some screaming and whatnot because who wouldn’t scream when they saw a guy crushed by a runaway truck. I couldn’t hear any of that though. I was surrounded by crushing cold. Not as cold as something Lisa could whip up, and it tasted much more like fish. It took some doing, but I managed to wriggle myself enough to get a range of
motion so I could slowly claw my way out.

  Several pairs of hands reached under my arms and hauled me to my feet. I was fine, of course, but my outfit was ruined, that was for sure.

  “My god, man,” a strong voice said. “Are you alright?”

  I shook some ice off my head and looked up. Wayne Grey and the girl in the wheelchair were in front of me. Well, I assume it was Wayne Grey. His face was hidden behind some steam that was rising off the hot pavement of the warehouse floor. The suit matched though and now that I was closer I couldn’t help but notice the very distinct outline of six pack abs through his shirt which was kind of confusing.

  “I’m fine,” I said, brushing more ice off my sleeve. The smell of fish was overwhelming now. I couldn’t tell if it was me or the hundreds of fish scattered around me.

  “Fine? You just got crushed by a ten ton truck full of wild caught, all-natural, antibiotic free organic Alaskan salmon. You should be dead.”

  I looked around skittishly. Had I already blown my cover?

  “Nah,” I said nervously. “I, uh...slipped through the cracks.”

  I’m sure he gave me a skeptical look, but I still couldn’t see his face. How was that possible?

  “We’ll have you checked out by our physicians anyway,” he said. “Legal reasons, you know?”

  “Sure,” I admitted, stealing a glance at her. I couldn’t help but notice the searching look on her face.

  “These self-driving trucks clearly aren’t quite ready for the road. So sorry about that.” Grey held his hand out. “I’m Wayne Grey.” We shook hands and he pointed to the young lady at his side. “This is my daughter Gracie.”

  “Grace,” she said sternly.

  “Sorry, sorry,” he said, maybe looking apologetic behind the steam. “This is my daughter, Grace Grey.”

  She nodded at me curtly.

  “We’ve met,” I said, smiling at her. “Kind of.”

  “Oh,” Grey said. “Okay. Well, we’ll see what the doctors have to say. I’ll be very interested to hear the results. In the meantime, watch out for fish trucks, huh?”

  I laughed. “Will do, Mr. Grey.”

  As soon as Wayne Grey turned around, the steam that managed to keep his face invisible dissipated. I started to say something to Grace, but she spun her chair around and followed after her father.

  “Nice to meet you…” I said to her back.

  Tough nut to crack. I could deal with that.

  SEVEN

  “Will you keep up!”

  “I’m trying! I’m not wearing roller blades like some of us!”

  “They’re roller skates! There’s a difference!”

  This was not exactly how I pictured my night going. It had been a long week of hauling fish around that lousy warehouse with nothing to show for it except the fetid stench of dead fish clinging to every inch of me it could find. I wanted to slip in to Lucky’s for a few drinks. Just to relax, ya know? Wasn’t looking to get into trouble. I just wanted to get a little buzzed and then stumble home for a nice long nap.

  But then Roller Blaze walks in all hot to trot looking to get into trouble and frankly I had just the right amount to drink to make me think that was a good idea. She said she felt like breaking into the aquarium and riding the dolphins, and while I had my fair share of fish for the last week, it sounded fun to finally let the fish be the ones doing the hauling. So I agreed and we took a cab down to the aquarium.

  It’s super easy to break into places when you’re hanging out with a fire talent that can melt any lock with the flick of her wrist. All Blaze had to do was snap and we were in. What’s cool about the aquarium after dark is that you can’t really see anything unless it’s right up against the glass. You can sense the movement out there, but you don’t know what’s moving until it’s right next to you. Pretty freaky. Better than a haunted house, honestly.

  Anyway, me and Blaze got a little lost inside, but eventually we made it to where the dolphin trainers put on their little shows. Lo and behold, there’s two dolphins swimming around, almost like they were waiting on us. Skipper and Flipper. I wish I could make that up, but that’s what was emblazoned on a mural on the far side of the tank.

  We stripped down to naught but our underwear - well, Blaze kept her skates on too for some reason - and just before we were about to jump in, my soon-to-be arch nemesis decided to party crash us. I gotta hand it to them, making an entrance was something of an art form and they were nailing it. So much bluster and bravado. I’d hate it if I didn’t have so much damn respect for it. The purple and silver of the suit looked exceptionally cool in the moonlight.

  Blaze hurled a couple of fireballs at the thing, but it didn’t do any more than it had the first time we squared off with this ‘Fig.

  “Guess it’s time to skedaddle,” she told me before we both bolted into the aquarium.

  So that brings us to now. Me and Blaze hauling six different shades of ass through the streets of Maxima City in our underwear - and Blaze’s skates, of course - while a ‘Fig in a battle suit tracked us from the sky. Like I said, not exactly the relaxing evening I was hoping for. Blaze, on the other hand, seemed to be having a blast.

  “We’re never going to outrun this thing,” I shouted at her as we rounded a corner and headed down a deserted street.

  “Her,” Blaze replied.

  “Huh?”

  “It’s a her,” she said, lobbing a fireball over her shoulder.

  I chanced a look over my shoulder. The ‘Fig was just a vague figure above us. Not doing anything, just following. Like your own personal raincloud that refused to soak you. “How can you tell?”

  “Are you kidding?” she asked leaping over a homeless gentleman. “Did you see the cans on that suit?”

  No pun intended, I’m sure. “Well, sure I saw them. I was trying to be respectful.”

  “Psh, forget that,” Blaze said with a smile. “I bet she’s super hot. How fast do you think we have to beat the game to see what’s under the suit?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  She shrugged. “Nevermind. We should split up. She can’t track us both if we head in opposite directions.”

  “Good idea,” I agreed.

  Without another word about it, I took off east and Blaze headed west. I heard something that sounded vaguely like a t-shirt cannon being fired followed by Blaze’s curse, but when I looked back, she was still skating away from me. Unfortunately, my pursuer decided I was the one to chase.

  Very curious.

  I’ve never seen a ‘Fig chase a henchman when a Mal was in the mix. There was no way my cover had been blown at the Warehouse, so what did I do to deserve such special treatment? At this point you’re probably thinking that this was exactly what I was looking for and why don’t I just stand my ground and fight? Well the answer to that is simple. I’m in my underwear. You don’t throw down with your nemesis on a whim when you’re sporting nothing but some shamrock boxers. Just isn’t couth. The time for rivalry would come when I was dressed and ready.

  For now, I had to lose the tail. I couldn’t go anywhere near home until I was sure I had shaken her. Without thinking about it, I cut across the street and burst through the door of a bit more upscale apartment complex. Not nice enough to have a doorman - not that he could have stopped me if there was one - but nice enough where a giant man in his boxers running frantically through the halls was something you didn’t see every day. I just had to get off the street.

  Sure, she’d definitely seen me go inside, but my hope was that she would assume I escaped out some back way if I just stayed put long enough. I waited about twenty minutes, took my time walking up the stairs to the roof. Buildings were close enough together in Maxima City to where I could easily jump to the next or beyond if I needed to.

  I peeked out the door to the roof and scanned the skies. No sign of the ‘Fig. Tiptoeing out, I decided I was probably in the clear. All I had to do was hop over a roof or two, make my way down to the
basement, and slip out through a maintenance hatch or something. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

  I leapt toward the nearest building, but in midair I felt cold metal wrap around my wrist and yank me backwards. Before I even realized what was happening, I went sailing twenty feet and collided with a ventilation shaft jutting out of the roof. Didn’t hurt, of course, but it was a little jarring.

  “That seemed unnecessary,” I said, getting back to my feet. The ‘Fig set down in front of me, just out of arm’s reach. “Look, I wasn’t planning on fighting you tonight, but if you’re gonna make me…”

  I took a swing, but she caught it. Like mid-arc, stopped me dead. Someone different would have broken all the bones in his hand.

  “Stop breaking the law,” she said to me. Her voice was tinny and robotic, but with a lilting feminine quality to it. “This is your last warning, Lane.”

  That drew me up short. I let my fist fall and dropped the defensive pose.

  “How did you kn-”

  I didn’t get to finish. She raised an arm and loosed a concussive blast square in my chest. For the second time tonight, I was flying through the air in a direction I didn’t choose and didn’t want to go in. I crashed unceremoniously through the window of a couple who definitely didn’t expect visitors based on what they were about to do. They didn’t even scream. They seemed as shocked to have someone burst in on them in the act as I was to have been doing the bursting.

  I stood up and brushed myself off. “Pardon me, folks.” A quick glance out the window was enough to know the ‘Fig was gone. “Don’t let me interrupt...whatever this is. I was just leaving.”

  I left the room in an awkward silence and made for the front door. How did the ‘Fig know my name? Had my cover been blown? I was so damn careful. I hadn’t even began snooping around. Wanted to establish myself as a legit employee first. Had someone ratted me out? The only person who knew I was on a mission was Lisa and Take, and neither one of them were likely to do so for their own reasons.