by Mel Odom
42
"You don't look like a local." one of the trolls told Argent as they spread out in front of the shadowrunner in Rebel Hell. The shadows around the bar intensified as the trolls blocked off the light.
Argent didn't respond to the taunt. He knew from experience that anything he could have said would have only been used against him.
"Me and Dweedle don't like people sniffing around our bar that we don't know." the troll went on. He triggered the synapse link that popped the heavy forearm snapblades he wore. The points gleamed in the low light, matching the silver caps on the canines of his lower jaw that jutted almost to his eyes.
The immediate crowd hugging the bar began pulling back, creating a widening circle.
"You and Dweedle keep on sticking your nose in other people's biz, Khelp." a light-hearted voice behind the trolls said, "you may end up sniffing your own hoop during a dirtnap. If you've got a nose left to sniff with."
Khelp turned slightly, looking confused by the interruption. "This ain't any of your biz, Travers."
"Long as I'm working this floor to keep browncones from flatlining each other or anyone else it's my biz."
Travers stopped well out of range of the snapblades and without interfering with Argent's maneuvering room.
Travers was at least eight centimeters taller even than Argent, and broader across, not yet out of his early twenties. He looked like a young giant. Dressed in a flimsy Confederate gray tank top and maroon synthdemin pants, Travers' muscular build was intimidating. His hands looked as big as pie plates and hung easily at his sides. Curly dark brown hair fell to his shoulders. His eyes shown cerulean blue, a hint of a flash that revealed they'd been cybered. The jawline was firm and hard, but the grin on his lips was irreverent, almost juvenile.
"You may think you're big." Khelp said, "but you ain't troll-sized yet. Me and you have never had any problems."
"Meaning I should wonder if I can take you?" Travers shook his head and laughed derisively. "Couple of things you don't get, scrod-head. One: when I walk this floor, I think I can take any son-of-a-slitch out here, and maybe any two or three, or I'd head back to the doss and drek myself every night. Two: I don't let any mother's son tell me what I can think or not think. And three: Letting you take that man on might get you flatlined for sure when I'd only slap a knot on your head. It's not him I'm worried about."
As Travers spoke, other troll go-gangers gathered around them, adding encouragement to Khelp. Argent noted the alcoholic flames burning in the go-ganger's eyes, but the quick, jerky motions he moved in spoke of other types of chem fragging his system as well. Common sense wasn't on the agenda anymore.
"Frag you, Travers." Khelp said. "For all I know, this guy's a Lone Star groundhound you let onto the premises to snare me and my buds to keep your own hoop out of the slammer." He spun without warning, flicking the snapblades out.
Guided by the move-by-wire system and his own training, Argent reached out for the snapblades. He caught them one-handed, a heartbeat before the blades could have turned into cleavers that might have shorn through even his cybernetic limb. He closed his fingers on the blades, breaking them off. They dropped to the floor, seemingly soundless with the music crashing throughout the room. Before Khelp could draw his hand back, Argent seized that as well, controlling the man with crushing force.
The troll go-ganger's eyes rounded even more when Argent placed the biz end of the Guardian at the center of his forehead.
"Breeze or bleed." Argent offered, his face impassive. "Your choice. I don't care which you choose. Either way, I don't want to see you again."
"You won't." the troll said, trying not to show the pain he was in. But he meant the answer to come across as intimidating.
Another troll suddenly flew backward, propelled by a barstool that flew across the air with the force of a battering ram. He landed in the midst of a group of dancers who protested loudly.
"Don't be so unwise, vous enfants miserable, to dink dat only one man stands before you." Laveau's voice was cold and hard. She held out a hand, palm up. The smoke in the area twisted into a miniature hurricane that spun in her palm. "And do not dink we are without resources."
The show stopped any thoughts of retribution on the part of the go-gangers. Argent released the troll's hand and stared the man down. Trying to hang onto the shreds of his dignity, Khelp turned and shoved his way through the trolls around him, cursing at them and slapping the ones who didn't move away quickly enough.
"Hoi, Argent." Travers said, approaching with a hand out.
Argent took the young man's hand and shook it. The brief grip Travers showed only hinted at the strength that even exceeded the massive build he showed from steroids and weight training. Argent knew both of the twins well enough to know that they'd had massive amounts of muscle augmentation in addition to the other cyberwork they'd had done to make themselves bigger and taller.
"Hello, Jesse." Argent said.
The young giant smiled. "You always know, don't you?"
"I have so far." Argent replied.
"Even a lot of our family still can't tell us apart all the time." another voice said.
Argent turned slightly and saw Jason Travers approach from beside the bar. The other twin samurai carried an Ares AZ-150 Super Stun Baton in his left hand. "Hello, Jase."
"You knowing how to do that is kind of disconcerting." Jason said. "In our biz, we sometimes depend on people losing track of who's who."
Jesse grinned. "Makes it easier for them to think we've got them surrounded."
"You're late getting here." Jase said.
"Made us start to worry." his brother put in.
"We kind of counted on this piece of biz com." Jase said.
Jesse leaned against the bar and scanned Archangel from head to toe. "Didn't count on the lush scenery being thrown in, though."
"Always love the fringe benefits when we work with you, Argent." Jase said.
"Zero out." Archangel said in a frosty voice. "If you get the wrong ideas in those tiny little brainboxes of yours, taking on a bar full of troll go-gangers is going to look wiz by comparison."
"Spunk." Jesse said, smiling and nodding in approval.
"We always like spunk." Jase stated.
"But." Jesse took up the slack, "Argent doesn't allow any poser behavior while we're working."
"And you're working now." Argent told the twins. He'd worked with them six times before. Despite the irreverent attitudes and macho complexes they exuded, the Travers always came through when the heat turned hottest. And for sheer mayhem, pound for pound, Argent had never seen anything like the twins.
Jesse came away from Archangel still smiling. "Good to know we're working."
"This past year." Jase said, "we've been saving back a little out of each contract."
"Investing." Jesse raised an eyebrow salaciously.
"Thinking of the future." Jase said.
"Our future, of course." Jesse said.
"We wanted something we understood."
"And something close to home."
"So we've been putting our extra nuyen into the bar." Jase said.
"We share in the quarterly profits." Jesse said.
"Feels kinda strange being legit." Jase confided.
Jesse nodded. "That's why we were glad you showed up with the offer."
"We'll be back in a couple ticks." Jase promised.
"We've got to get our stuff."
Argent watched them go, neither of them breaking stride but managing to talk to several of the bar attendees along the way just the same, calling out to them by name, although the bar patrons seemed confused as to which brother was which.
"Are they that hyper all the time?" Archangel asked quietly.
"No." Argent said truthfully. "Sometimes they're worse. But when they're working, they don't get any better."
"Where to next, cher?" Laveau asked, swirling her drink in a long-nailed hand.
"Fort Worth, Texas." Argent sai
d. "There's a guy I've got in mind to replace the long gun on the team, but I know what he'll probably say."
43
"Go with you to Pueblo just to get my fragging hoop shot off?"
"All I could do was ask." Argent said. He was seated in a booth at the Satin Doll, a night club rendered in an opulent Japanese decor, the next morning. Only members and their guests were allowed entry. Argent finished his glass of water and started to rise. "Stay healthy, Harrison."
"Spirits." Harrison Dane reached out and caught Argent's thick wrist in his hand. He was elven, long and lean, sporting fiery red hair that framed his angular face in an expensive cut that made him look like a trid version of a Mafia don. The expensive Armante suit carried out the appearance. He cursed fluently in Sperethiel. "You're going to walk out of here just like that?" He glanced around quickly, as if to see if anyone else had noticed his guest leaving so quickly.
Argent resumed his seat. "I've got things to do. I'm pushing the time frame on this one. You said no."
"And I meant no, fraggit." Dane growled. "Do you realize what you're asking me to do?"
"That's why I'm here."
"Well, you can't just ask that anymore."
"So ka." Argent said. "Then I've got to go." He started to rise again.
"Sit down." Dane pleaded. "Please. I've got an image to maintain here. The trid show is hanging in at one of the top ten consistently, and has for the last two seasons. Do you know what the chances of that are?"
"No." Argent replied. Trid was not one of his interests, but he knew the show Dane was talking about.
Kase for the Defense Was one of the hottest action/ adventure trid shows on the air. And Harrison Dane was a mega-star. Dane starred as Konrad Kase, an ex-Texas Ranger turned defense attorney who defended sympathetic shadowrunners and individual companies from the evil clutches of mega-corporate bad guys. During the course of an action-filled hour of trid, Kase could be counted on for shoot-outs, car chases, explosions, and babes.
Argent had gotten the information from a local scream-sheet he'd read on the flight into Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport from Atlanta. He hadn't talked to Dane in over two years. At that point, Kase for the Defense had been in its premiere year.
"Let me tell you." Dane said. "These days any kind of success on trid is a rare and wonderous thing.
Most trid series die within their first six outings." He quieted as three young women came up and asked for his autograph. He smiled generously and signed their books, then waved good-bye to them. 'Tans, spirits love 'em."
Argent waited, letting Dane catch him in the act of checking the time.
"You're busting my stones here." Dane said.
"I took no as your answer." Argent said.
"But you didn't argue. You didn't mention how much I owe you." Dane looked uncomfortable bringing the matter up.
"You don't owe me." Argent said. "I never thought you did."
"Then why are you here?"
"To ask you if you could cover the action on this. You said no. There's no problem." Argent meant it.
Back in the days when he'd worked with Brynnmawr, he'd learned all about manipulation and he'd promised himself never to use it. The confusion over the answer lay within Dane, not him.
"And you're not even going to mention the fact that all this success I'm enjoying now is due to you?" Dane asked.
"I didn't train you to be an actor." Argent pointed out.
"No, but if you and Peg hadn't helped me build this new SIN and identity a few years back, I'd still be a wanted assassin with a price on my head."
"I'm glad it's worked out for you."
"But?" Dane prompted.
"No buts." Argent said.
"I couldn't have done it without you."
"You couldn't have done it without someone who could have manufactured the new ID."
Dane still didn't look happy. "So you're just going to let me off the hook?"
"There never was a hook." Argent said.
"Everybody in the shadow biz is out for some kind of payback." Dane said. "They call your marker because you owe them, or they want to frag your hoop because you slotted them over."
"You don't want any part of this." Argent said. "I can respect that."
Dane sighed and looked pained. "What about Cholonga?"
"He got flat-lined in Philly." Argent said. "Tried to go corp-issue and they offered his head up as penance for a piece of biz that got slotted."
Dane massaged his jaw, thinking. "Cholonga was the only guy I knew who might have been as good as I am." Then he paused and looked directly at Argent. The elf's almond-shaped chartreuse eyes glittered as they narrowed to slits. "You called Cholonga first? Before me?"
"You've been out of the biz a few years." Argent pointed out. "Maybe you've lost your touch."
"Bulldrek!" the elf said. "If you thought that, you wouldn't be here now."
"I figured I could ask."
"I haven't lost my touch. I still shoot with the stunt guys working the set on Kase. I don't show them everything I've got, but I show them enough to take their nuyen when they're pushing it around."
"A chummer can lose his edge and not know it." Argent pointed out.
"I haven't lost my touch." Dane repeated. "I get off to myself, I can still peg a shot at two kilometers."
"Glad to hear it." In his day, Dane had been the finest sharpshooter Argent had ever worked with. Even better than people who'd been chipped and hardwired. The elf seemed to have a sixth sense for his targets, knowing if, when, and where they'd move after he fired his shot, allowing him to place the bullet exactly.
"Look." Dane said in a gentler voice, "you have to understand why I can't do this. The show, chummer, it's going through the roof in a biz that normally eats talent like troll kibble. That's not happening with me. I'm a fragging star."
"So I've been told."
"We're doing a thing with the show." Dane went on. "Do you know what an arc is?"
"Probably not when it comes to trid." Argent admitted.
"It's a series of stories." the elf replied, "that kind of make up one really big story. This arc is going to cover nine weeks. We're only halfway through that now. We've had two-and three-story arcs before in the series, and I thought the sponsors were going to drek themselves then. Nobody watches a fragging story arc anymore. Tune in for instant gratification, chummers, that's the only road to go. But our fans made those story arcs some of the biggest events to air on trid. Frag, they were picked up as straight-to-chip releases, putting both or all three episodes together and packaging them to sell. And they did. Now they're talking about a premiere release on the big screens. This nine-show arc is important. I just wanted you to know."
"I understand." Argent said.
Dane twirled the tail of one of the shrimp hanging on the cocktail in front of him. "I don't like the way you understand."
Argent nodded, conscious of the time going by. If Dane wasn't going to buy in, there were other arrangements he needed to make.
"So who are you going to get to cover your back?" Dane asked.
"I was told Mellion was free." Argent said.
"Pathetic. Who else?"
"Kristos."
"Little more than a poser wannabe. Who else?"
"Chalmers, Garrett, or Torkelette."
"Chalmers won't stick if things get tight. Garrett's a maybe on really long distances at best. And Torkelette's working with a BTL-chip monkey on his back these days. You use any of those people, you're going to end up slotted."
"I need the long gun." Argent stated. "The joker we're 'fronting will have armored cav in the area."
"I've been wondering about that too." Dane admitted. "How do you plan on getting around the ground and air forces he can put in there?"
"I've got an idea."
Dane looked at him steadily for a moment, then broke out into a big grin. "Love to hear it, chummer. You're facing rugged terrain, an incredibly large army, and limited resources."<
br />
"The terrain is going to work for me." Argent said. "I've just got to make an exfiltration. Nothing fancy like a prolonged insertion."
" 'Nothing fancy,' " Dane repeated. He leaned back in his seat and shook his head. "Still hard for you to admit the impossible, isn't it?"
Argent thought back over Toshi and Hawk dying. At the time, that had seemed impossible. "It's easier these days."
"But you think you have a shot at this?"
"If I didn't, I wouldn't go."
"Who have you got working on it with you?"
Argent shook his head. Unless someone was confirmed for a run, no one got any information. And then, if it was truly sensitive, only when they needed to know.
"You knew I'd be curious." Dane complained.
"Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime." The waitress approached, wearing a cocktail dress split up high on the sides. Argent waved her off. "I've got to go."
"For curiosity's sake." Dane said, "how much was this gig going to pay?"
"Fifty thousand."
"Fifty thousand!" the elf spluttered indignantly. "Do you know how much I get for an episode of Kase?"
"No. I only know how much this was going to pay."
"Well, it's a lot more than that, I'll tell you." Dane said. "And I get paid that while some stunt double gets paid a whole lot less to go in and risk getting his hoop slotted."
"I'm glad everything's going so well for you." Argent stood. "Be seeing you around."
"Yeah." Dane didn't look comfortable saying good-bye.
Argent left the elf sitting there and headed for the door. Before he reached the main foyer, though, Dane was at his side.
"Can't let you go, chummer." the elf said. "I owe you too much."
"You don't owe me anything." Argent said.
"Then I owe me something." Dane said.
"What about the show?"
Dane grinned. "Frag, I'm a star. The star. They'll work around me. I've just got to make a few calls, clear up a few problems. Drek, truth to tell, just sitting there thinking about doing something like this again was making me quiver all over. I can always count on you to get my adrenaline up, chummer. Hasn't ever been a time I've worked with you that the odds weren't against us."
