Danger’s Vice

by Amanda Carlson

  Very slowly, I lifted my hands. “You take my vest, you die.”

  He waltzed over slowly, clearly enjoying the show, acting like he already owned the city and everyone in it. He licked his lips in a very deliberate way. Any other scenario, and I would’ve smashed that grin off his face with my titanium-toed boot. “Honey, the only person who’s dying around here is you.” Once he was close enough, he ripped off my helmet, tossing it away with a clatter. Then he stuck the barrel of his gun against the center of my forehead, leaning in so close his tepid breath wafted across my cheeks. “That is, after you hand over the goods, like that vest and the drive.”

  I was nonplussed.

  Honestly, it was hard to be cowed by a guy like Dill. Because I felt like it, I jammed my forehead against the barrel, causing the asshole to shift backward a step. Why? Because I was stronger. “What?” It came out in a low growl. “You think I just carry the goods on me like some kind of fucking amateur?”

  Surprise hit him a second before anger.

  He snarled, making an angry jab forward, trying to force my head to comply. He had to use both hands. I almost snickered as I tilted my neck back to accommodate.

  We were engaged in a battle of wits, both of us seeking power and dominance. But Dill had no clue. None whatsoever. Which was why I was going to win.

  “You’ve got a lot of pockets in that pretty thing of yours. I’m thinking someone like you keeps all her goods close to the vest.”

  I gave him a smirk. “How about we find out?”

  He flashed his surprise that he was able to get me to acquiesce so easily, his eyes darting around the assembled crowd to see what everyone else thought. Because Dill, the Dillweed, had no cognitive skills.

  The group was unhelpful, until one guy called out, “Make her show you!”

  Dill’s eyes narrowed as he took a step back, his gun still aimed at my forehead. Damn, a shot to the head would hurt. Not to mention all that liquefying of my insides. “Take that vest off and show me what you got.”

  “No problem. It’s all yours.” I tilted my head as I began to unzip the front, making sure I took the zipper down excruciatingly slowly. My eyes swept around the circle, my eyelids fluttering, my smile showing increasingly more teeth as I went. “You boys excited to see what I have in here?”

  Once my attention was off Dill, he acted predictably. He reached for the vest, trying to grab hold of it to force me to go faster. I slapped his hand away.

  But before he could react, I replied coldly, “Are you trying to kill everyone here, Dill? Because I’m sure the boys would like to live to see another day. And if you don’t think I have bombs in here, then you’re crazier than I thought. You mishandle this piece of clothing, and we’re all going to blow.”

  Dill huffed, but backed off, his weapon still up. “You will hand us the bombs, real careful. Do anything strange, and you’re a dead girl.”

  I eased the vest over my shoulders, one at a time, my eyes still raking the group. Once it was off, and as slowly as I’d lowered the zipper, I reached into the first pocket, drawing out my tube keys. I held them up, jingling them. “Who wants these?” They all looked confused. When no one stepped forward, I turned to Dill. “Where would you like me to deposit them?”

  It was clear Dill hadn’t carried out many—if any—interrogations. But that didn’t stop him from acting like he had. He jutted his chin to the right. “Set them there on that broken fan.” I did as I was told. I pulled out a few more mundane objects—a laser key, a small knife, a super-bright light the size of my thumb tip. I set them all in the designated spot. “Where are the bombs?” he whined. “Why are you taking so long?”

  My features crumpled in concentration as I bent my head, becoming increasingly interested in the rest of the pockets, my hands darting in and out of each one. I finally pulled out my tech phone, which Dill promptly came forward and swiped out of my hand. “I’ll take that. These beauties are hard to come by. Now the bombs.”

  I turned the vest around, giving it a confused look, then I held it up like a prize. My eyebrows quirked, expressing my confusion. “I must’ve forgotten to put them in this morning. The rest of the stuff is just—”

  Dill snatched the vest, his face clouding. “You think you can deceive me like that?” Well, yes, Dill, I do. “I’ll take this and everything else that’s in it.”

  I crossed my arms. “The quantum drive is not in there, asshole. And neither are any bombs. I doubt it’ll fit you. You’re bigger than I am. That thing was custom-made to my exact body size and shape.”

  Dill gestured at a guy standing to my right. “Keep your weapon on her.” Then he holstered his own and shrugged on the vest, sucking in his stomach as he forced the zipper up. Once it was on, albeit fairly snuggly, he slapped his chest with both hands, making a loud clapping noise. “Looks like you’re wrong, little honey. Fits just fine. I guess it was custom-made for me.”

  “Looks like it.”

  Pissed that his actions didn’t get more of a reaction out of me, he ripped his gun back out of its holster, waving it at me. “You’re going to turn around and walk onto the street real slow. There’s a craft waiting outside. We’re going to bind you up nice and tight, then deliver you like a present to Hutch and Slim. Then we can finally get this show on the road.” He let out a large whoop, like he alone was in charge of the party.

  I turned and followed the men out.

  A grin on my face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  True to Dill’s word, they bound me up without a centimeter to spare. Steel grips encircled my wrists, which were secured in front of my body. They even added a nice, smelly face mask to make the prisoner ensemble complete. It was someone’s old shirt, and it reeked. I couldn’t fault Daze any longer for thinking my crap smelled. I’d be lucky if I could keep the scant contents in my stomach down.

  The stench was unreal.

  They’d stuffed me into the passenger seat, Dill at my back, the butt of his gun shoved uncomfortably into my shoulder. I had no idea who was piloting. He or she hadn’t said a word since we’d gotten in.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, not caring if I got a response, just needing to do something.

  “To the Emporium,” Dill answered proudly, like it was world-renowned and I should know what the hell he was talking about.

  There were several Pleasure Emporiums dotted across the city, most of them damaged beyond recognition. But there was only one emporium I knew of in the canals, if that’s where we were headed. It was the same one where Bender had salvaged his brightly colored pleasure toys.

  The last I’d seen it, it’d been in disrepair, but in better shape than most. The building was sound enough, if I remembered correctly. It was in a remote part of the canals, near open water. “Any particular reason we’re heading to an emporium?” I asked, knowing Dill couldn’t help but brag and end up telling me everything.

  “Not an emporium. The Emporium. That’s where Hutch and Slim are. Tandor didn’t have the vision, but we do. We’re going to revive the pleasure industry.” His tone was beyond boastful—it carried amazement. Like he couldn’t believe his luck.

  “The pleasure industry, huh?” I hadn’t expected that.

  “Yep. We’re going to gather up all the seekers in the city, turn them into slaves, along with anyone else who doesn’t go along with the plan. Then we’re going to fix up that place and make a fortune.”

  A fortune of what?

  I cleared my throat. “Um…as of the last, I don’t know, maybe sixty years, give or take, most of your potential clients don’t have any coin to their names. If you aren’t familiar, the government gives us the meager things we need, like it always has, and folks don’t have funds to spend.” I was stating the obvious, but I felt it needed to be said out loud, because, you know, Hutch’s master plan had some gaping flaws.

  Honestly, if anyone had any funds, they’d spend it on survival, not pleasure. Well, everyone except the Dillweeds of the world.
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br />   Dill jammed the barrel of his gun farther into my shoulder, dismissing my argument with an arc of spittle that sprayed across my exposed neck. Gross. “All that’s going to change once Hutch takes charge of the city. We’re going to make people work for their fair share, reinstate coin, and they’re all going to spend it on pleasure.” He was irritatingly smug, as if he’d masterminded the entire plan himself.

  Fat fucking chance.

  “What jobs are people going to do?” Now I was really curious.

  “They’ll clean this shitty place up.”

  “Where’s the government going to get the coin to pay people?” I asked. “The Flotilla took most of the physical funds with them when they left.” Why was anyone’s guess. Who needed physical funds at sea? The Flotilla was shrouded in mystery.

  “We’ll make new stuff.”

  Dill had a dipshit answer for everything.

  “Like cut some coin-looking objects out of some carbon sheeting?” I suggested helpfully.

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “I’m sure that’ll work great.” My voice held enough sarcasm that an inanimate object could have figured out my meaning.

  Dill remained as obtuse as ever. “It will. Too bad you won’t be around to see it. We’re going to be rich.”

  “So,” I said, just to pass the time, “what are you going to spend all your newly minted coin on?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Weapons, a sweet new place to live, new clothes, and as much pleasure as I can.”

  Was this guy for real?

  “How exactly is all that going to work? Where are you getting these new weapons?” There hadn’t been any manufacturing facilities anywhere for the past thirty years. No new crafts, no new gadgets, and certainly no new guns. Dill was implying—ridiculously and somewhat delusionally—that industry was going to magically restart with nothing but sex to fuel it. Not only was it not going to appear, mystically rising up out of the iron-soaked puddles, but there wasn’t going to suddenly be a stack of weapons that he could peruse at his leisure either. No matter how much made-up coin he’d unfairly earned.

  “The slaves are going to do it.” He’d uttered the words in an exasperated tone, like I was the moron.

  “Slaves are going to start making weapons?” I should’ve added, you fucking moron. But the gun rocking into my shoulder blade was getting uncomfortable, and I was still trying to breathe under the stinky shirt. But I had to admit that having this conversation was the best distraction I could’ve hoped for. I felt like I was on one of those ancient entertainment shows I’d read about, where people did silly things to get a laugh. At the time, it’d been hard to fathom such a concept, but suddenly it all made sense.

  “Yeah. And other stuff.” He sounded a little unsure this time, and I barely refrained from laughing.

  “Man, I really wish I was going to be around to see it,” I said. “That would be something else.”

  The craft began to drop altitude, the pilot still silent. “Shut up,” Dill snapped. “I’m done with you talking.” He addressed the pilot. “Land on the roof. Right over there.”

  The S3 craft settled onto its target smoothly.

  Before they’d blindfolded me, I’d seen the make and model of the dronecraft. These had been made for comfort. It was the first craft I’d ever been inside that my legs actually had enough room to move. I was sorry I had to exit, but not at all sorry to lose the putrid face mask.

  There was a lot of hustling and hands tugging me all over. “Can somebody please take this thing off?” My voice treaded into a whine. “If you don’t, you’re not going to get the pleasure of killing me, because I’ll already be dead of stinky asphyxiation. And while we’re at it, who cares if I see where we are? By all accounts, I’m not leaving this place alive.” Clearly, none of these guys were trained in the art of kidnapping, or much of anything else, for that matter.

  Someone finally obliged.

  The dirty shirt was ripped free, and my nostrils widened, drawing in semi fresh air. I tilted my head up to the sky and took a deep breath, not caring if iron-laden drizzle fell right into my mouth. Once I recovered, I said, “Thank you. That was very kind.” Three guys stood in front of me. They turned and began to walk me across the roof toward a makeshift entrance. My hands were still bound in front. I didn’t see Dill, so I glanced over my shoulder.

  I took in a sharp breath.

  Seven was parked next to another craft nearby.

  Fuck.

  They must’ve gotten Case, too. I knew I should’ve dropped him closer to Port Station. That was going to make things more complicated.

  Dill popped into my line of sight, strolling out from behind the craft we’d just exited and smirking. “That’s right, honey.” He spread his arms wide. “Drink it all in. This is the last time you’ll ever see the outdoors again. Hutch’s got big plans for you, and they’re going to take place right inside that Emporium. It’s going to be your brand-new forever home. I heard you needed one, since the other one came to an unexpected…end.” He snorted with braying laughter.

  I was momentarily confused. “I thought the plan was to kill me. Remember, I’m in the way of your dastardly plans, and I’m not going to live long enough to see you spend all your new, hard-earned coin?”

  He grumbled as a guy in front of us keyed open a door with a lime-green laser key. “If I have any say, you’d die a slow, tortured death. But Hutch wants to see how you’d be as a slave. You’re going to be his shiny new toy.” His face brightened as he thought about my new position in life. “I’m sure it will be entertaining, at least for a while. All the slaves are going to be wearing skimpy outfits and shaking their asses.”

  That sounded…revolting. “I’m no one’s toy.”

  “Like you have any say.”

  They shuffled me inside, hands prodding me down four flights of stairs. At the bottom, there was a beefy-looking guy standing in front of a honeycombed graphene door, which had obviously been set in place as a reinforcement.

  Dill asserted his power, pushing himself to the front of the group, snidely ordering the guard, “Step aside. I have the girl.”

  The guy barely acknowledged Dill as he opened the door. I was maneuvered into a surprisingly clean space. Walls had been repaired, garbage and debris nowhere in sight. It was odd to see something this put together that wasn’t a government-sanctioned space—not that government spaces were super nice, but they were a lot better than what the average person could accomplish on their own.

  They led me through a few corridors that eventually opened into a large space. This had been the main gathering area for patrons visiting the Pleasure Emporium long ago. I knew because I’d been here once before on a salvage run. It’d been in shambles then.

  But now it was clear of debris, and there were casual seating areas arranged in a few places, along with some desks along the back wall.

  What was most surprising was the big Bliss Corp sign, which was made of cut metal. It had been repaired and hung on the wall. The letters glimmered with a metallic-gold sheen, reflecting the low lighting set up around the room.

  It almost resembled a regular operation back in the day, if you ignored all the dents in the walls, the missing glass, broken fixtures, and the things they couldn’t possibly repair because there was nothing to repair them with. A cluster of men sat together in one of the far areas.

  As we came in, some of them stood, surprise etched on a few faces. But for the most part, it seemed, they’d known I was coming. Dill had sounded the alarm.

  A fairly tall and extremely emaciated man came forward. His cheeks were so hollow, it looked as if his tongue would get tangled up in them on a regular basis with no room to move.

  That had to be Slim.

  If it wasn’t, this guy should be jealous of whoever got the moniker that should be rightfully his. He got in my face. “Where are my formulas, bitch?”

  I didn’t flinch. These guys were extremely predictable. “It’s not my fault you were ha
d by a twelve-year-old,” I shot back. “And do you honestly think I’d keep valuable information like that on me? What is up with you guys?”

  His face clouded. He drew an arm back like he was going to punch me. But before he could carry out his move, a voice said, “Stop.”

  Very slowly, another figure rose from the couch. “I can’t have you damaging the goods. Especially when they arrived in such a pretty package.” His voice was low and masculine, with an exaggerated amount of syrupy sweet. “We don’t know how seekers heal from trauma they receive before they’re injected. We know they don’t do well after, so we can only assume that if she’s marred now, she will stay that way.”

  The man moving toward me was sleek. He had that going for him.

  He was taller than average, with a mane of long dark hair that floated oddly back away from his face. His eyes were piercing and crystal clear, a kind of light blue that I’d never seen before. They made him look like a ghost. He wore custom clothes like mine, in black synthetic leather. He had what Tandor had been missing, and this guy Slim—confidence.

  The only thing marring his otherwise perfect visage was a long scar, which ran from his right temple all the way down to his jaw. At least Daze had gotten that part right. He’d told me that Hutch was ugly and Slim was regular, which just proved the kid thought every adult looked the same. He was going to need some training.

  Hutch reached out like he was going to brush his knuckles against my cheek. I bobbed my head out of the way and gritted my teeth. “If you touch me, you die,” I snarled. He dropped his hand, and I shrugged. “Well, you’re going to die anyway, but you’ll just die harder and in a more painful way if you touch me.”

  “Such harsh words from a prisoner.” He tsked like I was a child.

  But he’d backed off. I considered that a win.

  “Yep, you caught me,” I said. “But I can assure you I won’t be here for long.” I glanced casually around the room. “And whatever you’ve got going on here is definitely not going to happen. But it’s nice to see the place all spruced up. I just lost my residence.” I met his ghostly gaze with a searing look of my own. “Maybe you’ve heard? I think I’ll commandeer this space when you’re gone. It’s only fair, and you kind of owe me.”