Fading Control

by TW Iain

  He waited. Chewy looked to Beardy, then to his colleague in Rodin’s grip, then back to Rodin. He nodded and took a step back as he lowered his blade. Rodin glanced down at it. With another look to Beardy, Chewy sheathed his weapon.

  Beardy did the same. He shuffled, looked like he was about to throw up.

  Rodin eased his weight back, pushing the wiry man’s hand forward, moving the blade from his throat. As Rodin stepped away and released the man he let his hand drop to his hip, let his fingers brush his own blade.

  The wiry one turned to face Rodin. He had small eyes, and they looked to his blade, then back to Rodin. He sheathed the blade, then held his hands up.

  Rodin relaxed his stance, gave the man a nod to say he could lower his hands. He did.

  “That’s better,” Rodin said.

  “Yeah, well,” Chewy said‌—‌and his attitude was returning. “No harm done, though. We’ll let you carry on.”

  Rodin shook his head, eyeing Chewy the whole time. The smile fell from the man’s lips.

  Genna’s information hadn’t been complete. While she had possible locations for the Brothers, none were definite. Rodin had planned on checking them out one by one, but maybe there was another way now.

  “Said I was looking for those who run this district, right?” he said. “Important things to discuss. Thing is, never got their address. Don’t want to wander around upsetting people.” He shrugged. “You understand?”

  Chewy looked to his two colleagues. They didn’t need to speak. Beardy’s eyes were still wide with fear. Wiry stood steady, head to one side, and Rodin knew he was assessing calmly, understood how things lay.

  Eventually Chewy nodded. “Guess we know who you’re on about. The Brothers, right? Done a bit of work for them.” He smiled, pride that Rodin felt wasn’t entirely warranted. “Could show you where they hang out. I mean, if you want. Or we could point you in the right direction. We’re easy, man.”

  Far too easy. But learning to compromise was an important lesson, wasn’t it?

  Rodin nodded. “I appreciate the help.”

  - 7 -

  The trio talked as they walked, especially Chewy. Rodin didn’t ask their names, and didn’t give his either. He answered their questions as shortly as he could, but most of the time Chewy was content to monologue.

  Not worth listening too, though. Bragging a lot, crap that Rodin didn’t fully believe. Chewy’s companions ate it up, though, agreeing with whatever their leader said.

  But the mood changed as they left the industrial area‌—‌their area. Beardy’s voice faded away, and Wiry walked with a crouch, head scanning the surrounding buildings.

  “So why d’ya want to see the Brothers?” Chewy asked as they passed through a residential street, about half the buildings appearing inhabited. “Looking for a job?”

  Rodin shook his head. “Potential business deal. With someone I represent.”

  That earned a raised eyebrow from Wiry, and a nod of appreciation. Maybe the lad had a bright future ahead of him.

  “Can’t do with all that business crap,” Chewy said. “Never know where you stand, with people talking. Prefer direct action, you know? More honest.”

  Rodin nodded, didn’t bother voicing any objections.

  The residential buildings thinned, then they passed through an area strewn with rubble from demolished buildings. Or they’d collapsed on their own. Rodin had no idea, and didn’t care.

  “Almost there,” Chewy said. “You going to contact them, say you’re on your way?”

  “Pretty sure they already know that.” Rodin had already spotted several Eyes, many with the tell-tale red glow in their corner. He reckoned Wiry had seen them too. The third lad, Beardy, seemed oblivious to the area, walking tall, as if his size would provide enough protection.

  They reached the end of the desolate area, back into streets, but there were still no signs of other people. It was early morning, though, so this didn’t surprise Rodin. The Brothers were most likely still up‌—‌always used to work when it was dark. Suited their more illicit deals, added to whatever reputation they could build.

  “There,” Chewy said, stopping and pointing.

  The street reached a T-junction ahead, and the house directly in front of them was large, surrounded by a mesh fence twice Rodin’s height. There was a glow around the building, not bright lights but enough to see by. Or enough for those guarding the house to see by.

  The Brothers might not be in Borinoff’s league, but they knew how to protect themselves now.

  “You just going to walk up, or you going to break in?” Chewy asked.

  Rodin shrugged. “Don’t want to be a threat. Asking nicely never hurt.”

  Chewy snorted at that, but when Rodin glanced at him he looked away, eyes down.

  “Thanks for the escort,” Rodin said. He hesitated, then continued, turning to Chewy. “Word of advice. Don’t be too cocky. It doesn’t look good when things go wrong.”

  He turned to Beardy. “And you‌—‌if you’re going to use your size to intimidate, be ready to back that up. You might scare off some folk, but others will see it as a challenge. Always protect yourself.”

  That got a reaction‌—‌Beardy opened his eyes wide, and his lips parted. Then his eyes wandered off as he considered Rodin’s words.

  “And you,” he said, turning to the wiry one. “You know what gave your position away earlier?”

  The lad shook his head, frowning.

  “You were breathing too loud. It’s not only about strength. Work on your whole body. And keep up the observation skills. Impressive how you were scanning the streets, but there’s always room for improvement.”

  Wiry nodded, all the thanks he’d offer. Didn’t mean he wasn’t thinking about Rodin’s words, though.

  “I get the chance, I’ll put in a good word for you with the Brothers.”

  Chewy was about to respond, looked far too appreciative, so Rodin walked forward, toward the fence. The lads faded into the darkness.

  There was a gate at the front, a strong metal construction, with Eyes on the posts and a screen to the right. Rodin tapped the surface and looked up to the closest Eye.

  They’d recognise him. Rodin doubted they’d be happy to see him, but they’d be cautious. He didn’t reckon they’d attack without giving him a chance to talk first.

  Movement at the house. Two guards appeared from the right-hand side‌—‌dark uniforms, two-handed weapons at the ready. A spotlight from the house burst into life, blinding white, and Rodin brought up an arm to cover his face.

  The twin shapes approached, stopped on the far side of the gate.

  “What?” one of them said‌—‌deep voice, possibly female.

  “I’m here to speak with your bosses?”

  A pause‌—‌the guards listening to the reply from the Brothers?

  “They’re not taking visitors.”

  The light had dimmed‌—‌or Rodin’s eyes had adjusted‌—‌and he lowered his arm. “Got a proposition for them. Might be interesting.”

  Another pause, then the female, the guard closest to Rodin, spoke the Brothers’ response. “Why?”

  “Why the proposition, or why might they be interested?”

  Another pause, then, “You’re not a friend.”

  “I’m not an enemy either. And I’m not here for myself. I come from Genna.”

  The guard with the raised weapon turned his head, looked at his companion. The female remained focused on Rodin‌—‌so the Brothers at least hired professionals now.

  And by the house stood four more guards, two to each side, weapons raised. Two remained at a distance while the other two slid closer to the four stone steps that led to the building’s main entrance.

  The door opened, sending more piercing light into the front yard, showing the weeds in the concrete. The gate in front of Rodin clicked, and the screen glowed green. The speaker moved to the left, still covering Rodin with her weapon.

  “
Push the gate. Through the door. Try anything, we shoot.”

  Rodin didn’t use the metal hand-rail to the door, trusted his footing as he climbed the steps. Once he crossed the threshold by a couple of paces the door slammed shut behind him, and the light dimmed to something less intense.

  There were more guards, unsurprisingly. One to either side, and another pair at the top of the staircase that stood in front of Rodin. The house was old, some kind of mansion from centuries ago. The air was musty, the paint on the walls peeling, and the tiling underfoot cracked.

  A door opened to Rodin’s right, and a figure emerged‌—‌tall and slender, with sharply defined features. The hair was longer than last time Rodin had seen the man.

  The door to Rodin’s left opened, and another figure emerged, of similar appearance. Similar, but not the same. The face was more rounded, and the second Paternas Brother still kept his hair short. It was thinning at the front.

  The third Brother had looked similar to this pair, fuelling the rumours that they were indeed biologically related. But the truth was easy to uncover.

  Maybe their appearance drew them together, but Jornas and Nilleck came from different districts. They joined forces, and made a name for themselves‌—‌more as troublemakers than serious threats. The only reason they didn’t get removed, Rodin suspected, was comedy value‌—‌the professionals enjoyed watching the mess they made.

  They recruited Cobey a year later, a lad from Jornas’ old district, and as a trio they caused even more trouble. But somehow they not only survived but grew. Over the years they went from being a joke to becoming serious contenders, with their own empire.

  It never got very far, though. Didn’t have what it took. And those they saw as rivals, those like Borinoff, held too much sway, had the means to keep them down.

  “Jornas,” Rodin addressed the Brother to his right, with a slight inclination of his head. He turned to the short-haired one. “Cobey.”

  “Rodin,” Jornas said, taking a step forward. “Can’t decide if it’s brave or foolish, showing your face like this.”

  Rodin raised his arms. “Not still sore about that, are you? It was a contract. If not me, someone else would have done the job.”

  “But it was you who slaughtered Nilleck.”

  “Slaughtered? Poison, in his sleep. Far more peaceful way of going than many get.”

  “And you’re still bragging about it?”

  Rodin shook his head. “Ancient history. I was a different man back then.”

  “Yes.” Jornas drew the word out as he studied Rodin. “Working for Genna now, right? She pay well?”

  Rodin shrugged. “Just doing a favour.”

  “So you came here of your own free will?”

  “Something like that.”

  “But it’s on behalf of your new boss, or whatever you call her?”

  “Kind of.”

  Jornas stroked his long fingers over his chin as he glanced across to Cobey.

  “Don’t make sense,” Cobey said. “Heard you got a big payout, don’t need the green. Since when does Rodin help people?”

  “I can’t change?”

  “Makes me suspicious, is all.”

  “My brother makes a good point.” Jornas waved a hand wide‌—‌a possibly friendly gesture that Rodin couldn’t trust. “You use manipulation to get close to your targets. We’d be fools to trust you.”

  “You trusted me to remove Kirrack. And Shimmea. Six others, too. Or was it seven? Can’t say I never helped you.”

  Cobey’s eyes narrowed, but Jornas smiled‌—‌the kind of expression worn as a mask.

  Rodin glanced at the guards. They all stood ready, waiting on a signal from either Brother.

  Rodin stood his ground, hands loose by his side. He met Jornas’ gaze, monitored Cobey in his peripheral vision.

  Jornas nodded. “You’re a professional. We can respect that. Even if you’re working unpaid at the moment‌—‌personally, I don’t believe that‌—‌you’re not showing signs of aggression towards either myself or my Brother. I suppose we should offer you the benefit of the doubt. Would you be amenable to continuing this conversation somewhere more pleasant?”

  Rodin smiled. “Sounds good to me,” he said.

  But not everything sounded good. Like the way Jornas said that last line. Too complicated, like something Leopold would say.

  Like he’d spent too long talking to someone from the Dome.

  - 8 -

  They had him remove all weapons before he went any further into the house. One of the guards dragged a large crate over, and Rodin placed his pack and weapons inside. He even removed his jacket and added that, and caught the raised eyebrow Cobey shot his Brother, and the grin on Jornas’ face.

  They led him up the staircase, along a corridor with a threadbare carpet and into an office. If the window had not been boarded, Rodin could have looked over the front yard and down the street he’d approached from. Instead, there were a couple of wall screens, one showing various Eye feeds that must have been from positions around the building. The other was blank.

  “Have a seat,” Jornas said, waving to the four easy chairs that surrounded a low table, to the right of the room. Clearly, this wasn’t a conversation that warranted the use of the desk. Either that, or Jornas wanted to make some kind of impression.

  Not the way the man used to work. He’d always been the talkative one, the Brother who appeared in charge, but he’d always been blunt. Many of Rodin’s meetings with the man had taken place standing up, business completed in a matter of minutes.

  The chair was comfortable, but Rodin kept both feet on the ground, ready. Jornas could afford to cross his legs and sit back‌—‌along with Cobey, there were also two guards by the door, both holding weapons.

  “Don’t worry about them,” Jornas said. “They won’t pass on anything we say. It’s more than their job’s worth.”

  “You trust them that much?”

  “We give them incentives to stay quiet.”

  “Fair enough. Get through many guards?”

  Jornas’ smile never left his face. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to ask about our personnel. How about we get down to business?”

  Rodin shrugged. “Just interested. You’ve done well for yourselves.”

  “We get by. Haven’t had the same problems as Genna, from what we hear.”

  That was an obvious opening, and Rodin couldn’t let it slip. “She’s fighting back, as always. Reckon she’s in a stronger position now.”

  “Really?” Jornas glanced at Cobey, who gave a shrug. “Half her district in ruins, refugees from the east, and all that violence? Doesn’t sound too good to us.”

  “Sounds like rumours.” Or the Brothers were being fed information.

  “None of it true, then?”

  “Always some truth in rumours. But she has Garrick’s old district now, and a strong connection with Dephloren. More people mean more problems, and more resources. She’s doing well.”

  “Heard about the dog going under,” Cobey said. “Good riddance, I say.”

  No love lost there‌—‌Rodin remembered some of the stories he’d heard, of the Brothers trying to work with Garrick in the early days.

  “So she’s met Dephloren in person?” Jornas asked.

  “Not sure. She doesn’t tell me everything.”

  “Always knew she was smart.” Jornas paused, and Rodin knew he wasn’t satisfied with the answer to his question. When Rodin didn’t elaborate, he continued. “What about Borinoff? She working with him too?”

  “Like I say, she doesn’t tell me everything. Just what she wants me to know.”

  Cobey let out a sigh. “Must be tough, being kept in the dark. Especially for someone who used to be at the top of his game, best assassin in the districts.”

  Did the man think he could goad Rodin like that? “Prefer to stay out of all that politics crap.” Rodin waved a hand dismissively.

  “Yet you’re here on her
behalf,” Jornas said, head tilted to one side.

  “Situations change.” Rodin took a breath before speaking the lines he’d prepared. “She’s willing to look past differences and forge new beginnings. That’s why she sent me‌—‌our previous differences aren’t important.”

  The room grew quiet as the Brothers exchanged looks and studied Rodin. He waited. The guards by the door stood steady‌—‌well-trained.

  This building might look like it was about to collapse, but Rodin wondered about that now. Where the furnishings looked rough downstairs, this office had nothing like that. The chairs might not be luxury, but they were solid and functional. The walls were free of cracks, and the panelling on the floor looked of high quality.

  Then there were the guards‌—‌six outside, four in the entrance hall, another couple in this room, and surely more Rodin had not yet seen. The wall-screen scanned through many security Eye feeds.

  That kind of set-up didn’t come cheap. The Brothers had funds, then.

  “I suppose that makes sense,” Jornas said eventually. “So what is it she wants with us?”

  “Co-operation.”

  “Co-operation?” There was a hint of laughter in the man’s voice. “Isn’t it more likely she wants to influence us? If she can get the great Rodin to run errands for her, she must believe she can also drag us down to be her minions, yes?”

  Rodin shook his head. “Her business affairs with Dephloren are mutually beneficial, neither stronger than the other. She wants the same kind of arrangement with the Paternas Brothers.”

  Jornas frowned. “But what of her long game?”

  “Same as always. She might be idealistic, but she’s always been after peace. Easier to reach that through co-operation.”

  “With her at the top,” Cobey said, scowling.

  “The way Genna sees it, she carries a burden. Works bloody hard. For what it’s worth, I reckon her motives are genuine.”

  As the words left Rodin’s mouth, he realised that he meant them. And maybe it was the lack of pretence that made Cobey sit back and turn to Jornas, that made both of them consider the situation.