by Andrew Novak
“That’s better,” Jack nodded, admiring the result. “Like in life, right, Brandt? Now you are disabled here. You can only pick your nose with one hand, though. It’s a shame that I can’t play with you for long in the game. That’s what I meant when I talked about justice. You should have one hand, and now everything is right.”
Brandt opened his mouth, but couldn’t utter a word. Now, in front of him, information messages should be flashing about the rapidly disappearing units of health. He fell on his back and his armor rattled. Brandt tried to grope in a pocket at his waist for a green elixir, but Jack kicked the bottle and looked into the dying man’s eyes. Brandt stared at him with hatred. It was just a drawn game character transmitted by a video camera mounted in a virt-helmet, but, damn, how much hatred splashed in these eyes! Jack felt a fraction of the satisfaction that he’d had been waiting for.
“Greetings from Romeo,” he said slowly and distinctly. “From the Presbyterian church. We evicted you today, and remember this day. Never dare enter our territory. Never. Otherwise, that lesson of justice will be repeated in real life. Only there you do not get off with just a hand. In real life, I’ll kill you.”
Brandt mumbled something, but it was so quiet that it was impossible to make out. He tossed and turned in a bright scarlet pool and lost the last units of his life.
“Accept this sacrifice, Great Necta,” Jack proclaimed, “and transport me to the crossroads near the town of Narim!”
He brought the sword down, and Brandt froze. And before Jack’s eyes unfolded a map of two continents.
Chapter Seventeen
I Brought You Justice
JACK THOUGHT that if there was anything unchanged in the world of Alterra, then it was this crossroad near the town of Narim. Here, everything was as before. The sun shone brightly in the blue sky, and the dusty road snaked between the green trees. Jack ran to the chapel. The game was over, now the encounter with Brandt would have to be repeated in real life. He left the game, wound the wires on the console, so that the electronic junk took up less space, and shoved the gaming accessories into the backpack. Then he got out of the destroyed trailer and went through Murray Hill. It was as crowded as usual here.
Rather, now it was particularly crowded, because Ironfist’s people, who had settled in the church, were probably not very pleasant neighbors. Behind the church, a few Key Wardens watched. Guys from the Sango gang. Well, Romeo, presumably, also didn’t leave his territory without attention, even if it was crowded with newcomers. In general, the representatives of the three groups watched one another, sometimes met, and Jack could easily imagine how the locals tried to bypass this place around the side. If a person accidentally wound up here by chance, not realizing where he was going, he should hasten to leave this corner of Murray Hill.
A few omegas stepped out of Jack’s way. His mood must have been written on his face as he stalked to the Presbyterian Church.
When there were about three hundred meters left, a whole crowd appeared, which wasn’t going to give way. Thirty men, no less. Jack immediately realized who he was dealing with — most of the men in front were armed with heavy sticks and chains, and a few omegas wandering between them were captives. These were Brandt Ironfist’s people from the Presbyterian Church. They looked like hell, a few people had fresh shiners or lesions, some escaped, however, without major maiming. Jack smiled contentedly. As planned, Brandt’s men were caught during the game. The fight passed quickly and easily.
At the head of the procession walked a very young guy, of medium height, not very large, agile and quick in his movements. He was dressed richly, by the standards of the ghetto, in a clean shirt, which was very much distinguished by its dazzling whiteness. He also wore a black waistcoat, blue trousers and shoes. The sleeve of the shirt was half torn off, and the socks of the shoes were stained with what was obviously drying blood.
Romeo, Jack guessed, that’s who. Well, you can get acquainted. He straightened his backpack and headed for the crowd.
“Jack?” asked the leader, stopping, “Jack the Tramp?”
“The one and only.” Jack nodded. “And you, then, are Romeo. How was the fight in the church? They were in virt, right?”
“That’s right,” he smiled broadly. “Jack, you’re a pretty good business partner. Everything went exactly as you promised. These bastards were sitting in a row in virt-helms and were battling with someone in Alterra. We caught them with their pants down, no one even managed to twitch.”
“What do you mean, with someone?” Jack winked. “With me. Brandt also got it. I cut off his hand so that everything matched reality.”
“It’s a shame that he he’ll come back again with two hands.”
“No, unlikely. He’s now in real life, coming here. And after our meeting he won’t get to play. So, it’s time. I should get ready for my appointment.”
Jack jerked his shoulder, adjusting his backpack, and the pieces of iron in it jangled.
“Good luck,” Romeo nodded. “Maybe we’ll meet again, huh?”
“We’ll definitely meet, because you owe me. I’m in no hurry, but sooner or later we’ll even the score.”
Romeo stopped smiling, and thought. Finally, he nodded:
“If you do take Brandt out in real life, then I owe you. Keep in touch. It’s nice to work with you, in any case, judging how it worked out in the church. Wait, are you going to meet Brandt alone?”
“I’m planning on it,” Jack said with an important nod. “You’re going to hold these idiots for an hour?”
Romeo shook his head.
“These aren’t the last of Brandt’s people. I hope you know what you’re doing. Good luck.”
He nodded goodbye and strode off at the head of his triumphal procession. Jack watched the dull captives and proud winners. Romeo’s gang didn’t look very threatening. He wasn’t one of the stronger ghetto bosses. Too young. And all the serious omega leaders Jack knew. At least, he’d heard of them. About Romeo, he didn’t know anything until he broke down Jack’s trailer door. If Jack’s plan succeeded, Romeo’s rating would grow substantially.
In the tail of the procession, an old friend paced. Mike. He had dropped back, holding a whole heap of game consoles to his. Trophies from the Presbyterian Church. And what else could be taken from the poor omegas of Brandt’s gang? Only their consoles. Mike was grinning.
* * *
The doors in the building of the Presbyterian church were broken off, one side lay in the dust, the other left barely hanging on it’s curved hinges. There was not a soul around. Whenever there is a big fight somewhere, omegas try not to be there. Therefore, if it was simply not crowded in Murray Hill then the number of people in the neighborhood around the church could compete with the population of the Blighted Wasteland.
Although it didn’t matter, the spectacle Jack created hadn’t needed an audience. A strange thought occurred to him. This event will become a big topic for gossip and legends that would disperse among all the Clusters. Brandt Ironfist’s last day on earth would be much talked about. And, as always happened, absurd tales would grow from it. He wondered a little what the omegas would come up with in their kitchens. One day, Jack would listen to these stories with interest and would learn a lot about himself. He entered the church building. Trying to keep quiet, he examined the first floor. He found the same room where he’d first met Brandt. Dark streaks were still visible on the wall where he’d shot Clive dead.
There were only a few split planks left of the wooden cage, which had held Goodwin. The rest had became firewood. But Jack didn’t linger to see the local sights. He was looking for the place where he would meet with Brandt. He climbed to the roof to toss away the bridges that had been thrown over to the neighboring buildings. Let him use the door.
He found a suitable room on the second floor. Small. You might call it cozy. And most importantly, there was a power cable. Along the wall there were several mattresses, in the middle of the room were fragments of a console
, crushed by someone’s boots. This had to be where the Battle Seekers clan had been, when, at the call of Brandt Ironfist, they’d rushed to Odon Castle. Here, they’d been “caught with their pants down,” as Romeo put it.
Jack dropped his heavy backpack from his shoulder and stretched. Then he rummaged through a pile of rubbish under the wall, found a few rusty nails and a piece of iron that would serve as a hammer. He pulled out the unit that Goodwin had built, put it on the wall at about a height of one and a half meters, and noted where to fix it… He deliberately chose a place near the entrance.
When he’d finished, Jack settled himself at the window and waited. If Brandt was really furious, the wait wouldn’t be long. And as it turned out, not even half an hour later, a crowd moved toward the building. Brandt walked at it’s head, followed by more than twenty people. Carl’s huge figure stood out in the crowd. He also recognized Shifty Peter. The expressions on the faces were dark and focused, and they all peered into the dark gaps in the windows of the Presbyterian Church.
He grabbed one of the mattresses on which Brandt’s people had been spending their time, squeezed it through the window opening and pushed it out. Then the next, then another and another. He didn’t look out at them, let them come inside and look at him. Or rather, not at him, because Jack was trying not to show himself in the window. From below, it was clear that someone, continuing the Romeo destruction, was throwing mattresses from the second floor.
Outside someone shouted:
“Look, look!”
“It’s Romeo, he’s still there! Not afraid of anything, that bastard!”
“Doesn’t matter, he’s about to die!”
“Oh, he’s a damn idiot, if he didn’t think we would come! Let’s show him!”
Brandt shouted loudest. Jack smirked. He’d worked the one-armed man over hard. He was furious. He could count on him rushing first thing to the second floor. This should make it easier for Peter and his guys to neutralize several of Brandt’s men, which it looked like he’d managed to gather. Jack knew Shifty’s people, if not by name, then at least by face, and noticed that there were many more strangers. Peter would succeed.
He threw the last mattress out the window and retreated to the door. A large red button on the cracked plastic box controlled the awkward unit that Goodwin had built for him. The box hung over a meter of cable trimming. Jack stood up so that he wasn’t visible from the corridor, and picked up the box.
Down at the entrance, yelling, there was a crunching and cracking of the long-suffering door, then Jack heard stomping. The footsteps rattled up the stairs, and a runner who was unconcerned that he was alone entered. This was Brandt, definitely. And the rest were detained by Peter at the bottom. Yep, he heard the sounds of a fight down below. But Brandt was enraged and didn’t realize that they weren’t fighting Romeo’s people.
Jack got ready. Come on, now… well, come on… Brandt flew into the room, and Jack pressed the button. Goodwin’s electromagnet worked and the steel arm crashed into it with a clang. Brandt saw Jack, jerked, but the magnet held tight.
“Hello, Brandt,” Jack no longer felt indifferent, his sincere smile widening. Oh, how he’d waited for this meeting in real life. Oh, how he’d waited.
“You? You’re alive? You’re still not dead?” Brandt tensed, but the steel hand stuck to the magnet.
It was a powerful magnet, Goodwin did good work.
“Only after you, buddy.”
Brandt braced, pulled harder and managed to tear off the prosthesis from the magnet that pulled on him. Jack was ready for it and, stepping forward, punched Brandt in the jaw. It was a good punch. Jack put all his weight into it. It threw Brandt against the wall and the magnetic trap again caught his prosthesis. Brandt would have fallen, but remained hanging, stuck.
Jack jumped and kicked the pistol his enemy had pulled from his belt. After that, he stepped back and allowed himself to rise.
“Well,” Brandt spat out a bloody tooth and frowned as his eyes followed Jack’s movements, “are you going to kill a cripple?”
“You didn’t take your chance when you had two hands.”
Jack listened — the noise of the fight below was gone, but he didn’t hear steps on the stairs. So, Peter’s people had managed to deal with those whom Brandt had brought. Shifty was waiting at the entrance. Waiting until good, old Jack came out and told him where the weapon from the Wasteland was hidden. And then what? Would he drop Jack as a friend? Doubtful. First, he needs to make sure that the infragun was where it should be. Well, then, he’d decide that there could be no witnesses. Jack only realized now that Peter would finish off everyone who came here with Brandt, all the people from Ironfist’s gang. He’s honest and kind, Peter, he doesn’t want the witnesses of his betrayal live. Damn, too many corpses… Jack didn’t want this. But what could you do? And then, they were all responsible for Lisa’s death.
And, he couldn’t delay the conversation with Brandt. He had to finish the matter and get out before Peter sent his people upstairs. His patience wouldn’t last long.
“What are you talking about? When did I have a chance?” Brandt pulled at the prosthesis, but could no longer tear it away from the magnet. “I had two hands when you were a little snot.”
“Today, at Odon Castle.”
“That was you? In the helmet and without stats? Goddamn, pup, I should have known.”
“Of course, you should. After all, we chatted for a long time, you had time to remember an old friend.”
“I’ll remember everything…” Brandt, glancing at his enemy, jerked his hand. Nothing came of it, only the tearing of a black glove on a steel palm. “besides, everything happened too quickly.”
“Well, now! We got on so well. We discussed justice. And now it’s here for you.”
“To hell with your justice. I’m a cripple, and besides, you ambushed me. Turn off the magnet, and then we’ll talk about justice. Well, be a man and give me a chance.”
“Did you give Lisa a chance? Did you behave like a man with her? Did you give me a chance when you sent me to Middle Finger? Did you tell me there was radiation? Told me that I’d die in a week? I had a chance?”
Jack felt anger, boiling again in his chest. Now the man who destroyed his life would answer for everything. Right now. Lisa couldn’t be returned, but at least Brandt would have to pay. Everything has a price, and Brandt’s ruined happiness wasn’t enough… nothing else can be taken in exchange for a life. Fate was a bitch. She’d again slipped Jack the Tramp a bad lot.
Brandt slowly stretched his right hand under his jacket. Jack pricked up his ears: what’s he got there? Probably not a second gun. But the knife, definitely. So, he pulled out Juan’s gift and got ready.
“Look at you with a knife,” muttered the cripple. “And I’m unarmed. So, tell me about your justice.”
His fingers moved under his jacket, and Jack decided it was time to end it before the enemy finished his dawdling. He stepped toward Brandt, who jerked, broke free and jumped at Jack. The iron hand remained in place, the cripple had unfastened his prosthesis, deceiving Jack. Brandt crashed into him, like a catapult missile, knocked him to the floor. Jack, falling, slashed with the knife, but not deeply. The handle twisted out of his hand, and Brandt only growled, grabbing his enemy by the throat. The wound didn’t prevent him from leaning on Jack with all his weight, pressing him to the floor, Jack grabbed the hand on his neck, tried to peel off the curved fingers, but couldn’t.
Brandt growled, and tightened his grip. Cursed disease had taken power! Would Jack have been caught so easily, had he been in his usual condition? He jerked, tried to bend his leg in order to kick his opponent’s knee, and failed again. Blood from Brandt’s wound poured over them both, his hands became slippery, and Brandt’s fingers turned into steel hooks. Jack realized that he didn’t have enough air, even the anger in his chest couldn’t help him deal with the cripple.
The anger was gradually replaced by despair — not for himself, not
for his failing strength, but for the fact that Lisa would remain unavenged. He jabbed his fingers at Brandt’s face, he jerked his head, dodged. The grip weakened for a moment, and Jack slipped a hand under his fingers. It became slightly easier to breathe, he drew in a hoarse breath. His left palm rummaged around the floor around him. He needed to find something hard, heavy. A brick, piece of iron, a piece of wood… his fingers closed on some round rod, Jack tried to wave the weapon, but it was just a cable. The same cable that led to the box with the big red button. Jack jerked the cable toward him, something clicked, the measured buzz of the magnet died, Brandt twitched his whole body and went limp, the grip on his throat unclenched. On Brandt’s forehead, red trickles rolled down, he dropped his head, and Jack finally managed to take a long, hoarse breath. There was a taste of blood in his mouth, just a few drops, sliding down his face, fell into his mouth. Jack shoved his enemy off himself and saw the prosthesis. When he’d pulled the cable and unplugged the magnet, the heavy lump of steel equipped with hydraulic cylinders and intertwined with cables in a corrugated braid, had fallen and hit Brandt on the back of the head. Jack bent over the unfeeling body of his mortal enemy on his knees, raised the prosthesis over his head, and sharply dropped it on the back of Brandt’s head. And again. And one more time. Well, maybe once more.
