The Face of a Rogue

by L T Anderson

Adam tipped his chin at Curly. “So how long you guys been there? At the shelter.”

  “Uh…” Jake began.

  Adam stepped between the two and looked up at the dirty-blond man. “I’m asking Curly.”

  Curly glanced nervously at his friend then looked Adam in the eye. “Um, a couple months?”

  “Are you asking me, or telling me?” Adam asked.

  Will and Joey stepped between Adam and Jake and nudged the big guy backward. Will placed a gloved hand gently on Jake’s chest. “We’ve been around a lot longer than a couple months.” He looked into Jake’s eyes. “Never seen you two here before tonight.”

  Jake resisted any further retreat. He leaned into Will and looked down at him. “You guys hassling us?”

  “They’re Punk Security, Jake,” Curly said.

  Jake raised his voice. “I know who they are. Bystanders don’t want your security in Tremayne anymore.”

  Adam took Curly by the elbow and guided him about five steps away from his friend. “Step over here. I have a few more questions.”

  The big guy stiffened and raised a hand above Will’s head. “Don’t tell him anything, Curly. Punks don’t have authority here.”

  Will and Joey pressed together, blocking Jake from moving toward Adam and Curly.

  “You need to relax, sir,” Will said. “Nothing’s changed with Punk Security. Until the city of Tremayne severs our contract, we’re the authority, like it or not.”

  Jake took a step back and crossed his arms. “Hey, either of you guys got a cigarette?”

  “We don’t smoke,” Joey said.

  Adam turned Curly around to face the street and prodded him gently. Curly backed against a full sheet of plywood that covered a window opening on the old brick building.

  “What are you doing?” Curly asked.

  “Seriously, dude,” Adam said. “We all know you two haven’t been around here a couple months.”

  Curly shoved his hands into his baggy pants and glanced at his friend. “Okay, so what? We weren’t doing anything wrong when you guys drove up. We’re just two homeless dudes living at the shelter. We were minding our own business.”

  Adam’s eyes narrowed. That voice. Where have I heard it? He looked into Curly’s eyes. “Do we know each other?”

  “Ahem…no,” Curly said. “I…I mean, I’ve seen Punks around. You know, just around.”

  Adam swiveled to face Will and Joey. “Hey guys,” he shouted. “Move that guy along and come over here.”

  Curly yanked his hands out of his pockets. “Wait—”

  Adam held a hand to Curly’s chest. “You wait.” He spoke into the shoulder mic. “Adam here. You copy, Krystal?”

  Will touched Jake’s arm. “Come on this way, sir. You need to head back to the shelter for the night.”

  Jake resisted. “What about my buddy?”

  The two Punks grabbed Jake’s biceps and guided him into the street past Curly and Adam. A large low cloud of fog drifted between the trio and the sidewalk. “You guys are makin’ a mistake, man,” Jake said. “Me and Curly, we stick together.”

  Adam held Curly against the plywood window and watched the three pass by. His radio crackled. “Krystal here, Adam. Go ahead.”

  Curly pressed hard against Adam’s hand. Adam repositioned himself, forcing the homeless man back. “Best stand still, Curly.” He clicked his shoulder mic. “Yeah, Krystal. We got a detainee here you might want to question.”

  “What’s the issue, Adam?”

  Adam shook his head, glad Krystal couldn’t see him. “Jeez, Krystal. I don’t really know. He’s a homeless guy we found hanging out in Old Town with some other guy. There’s something about him.”

  “I copy that, Adam. Ryker and I came in through Checkpoint Two on the east side. We’ll head your way as soon as we can.”

  “10-4, Krystal. We separated the other guy and sent him to the shelter. We still got a few questions for this one.”

  “Hold him till we get there, Adam.”

  “10-4. We’re about fifty yards west of the shelter, south side of the street. We’ll hold him as long as we can. Thanks, Krystal.”

  Will and Joey walked backward down the street toward Adam and Curly, making sure Jake was well on his way.

  “Yo, guys,” Adam said, motioning to his friends.

  Curly swiped his hand across his chest and knocked Adam’s hand away. He lunged forward and pushed Adam toward Will and Joey. Will sidestepped his friend and grabbed the grimy waistband of the man’s pants.

  “Not so fast,” Will said.

  Joey grabbed Curly around the midsection, pinning the man’s arms to his sides in a bear hug. “Got ’em, Will. Go ahead and cuff him.”

  Curly didn’t go down easy. Adam recovered his balance and mimicked Joey’s grip around Curly’s knees. The homeless man fell hard, chest first on the cold concrete sidewalk. Will landed a knee between the man’s shoulder blades and quickly placed two heavy zip ties around Curly’s wrists.

  The Three Amigos scrambled to their feet and regained their composure.

  Curly struggled to roll sideways. “What the heck, that’s police brutality.” His chin was swollen and scraped from the fall. “I’m reporting this.”

  “We’re not the police, mister,” Will said, looking down at Curly. He straightened his gloves. “Stand him up, guys.”

  Adam and Joey each grabbed an arm and hoisted the man to his feet.

  Will stepped up to Curly and stared up into his eyes. “I don’t get your attitude. But I can tell you this—there’s something about you.” He jerked his head sideways. “You and your partner look familiar to us. Can’t put a finger on anything now, but we’re gonna find out.”

  The homeless shelter was brightly lit inside. Men and women carrying duffel bags, bedrolls and bags full of miscellaneous belongings moved in all directions. It was evident some knew the routine while others were doing their best trying to find their place in the commune. The smell of the night’s supper wafted into the foyer from the large kitchen down one of four wide hallways.

  Raymond checked into Charlie’s House and received two tickets—one for the night’s supper, and one for a cot—from the nice lady at the front counter. He stuffed them into a jacket pocket and turned to leave. He walked the short five steps to the exit as a well-built homeless man entered the building. Raymond body-checked the big guy, stopped and flexed. “Don’t fuck with me, homeless dude,” he challenged.

  The man’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at Raymond. “You’re here, little man. Makes you homeless, too, right?”

  Raymond moved closer to the man and pressed his chest against him. “Think you’re crazier than me? Don’t make me show you crazy.”

  He stood firm. “Make your move, punk.”

  “Oh yeah? I used to be a Punk. But I’m too good for that group now.”

  “Yeah,” the man said, smiling. “Me, too.”

  Raymond turned and pushed the door open. He looked back at the big guy. “I’m gonna remember you.”

  Chapter 32

  Familiar Strangers

  Levi and Angelica strode swiftly through the brightly lit pedestrian expressway on Level Three in the Underground. The Changer leader’s royal-blue suit was impeccable, as usual. Angelica’s three-inch pumps clicked loudly on the highly polished floor. Her gait was quicker than Levi’s—her black pinstriped pencil skirt forcing shorter steps—but she easily matched his speed as they approached an elevator.

  When the pair entered, Levi pressed number seven and turned to Ms. DeMone. “I have invited Dr. Rasmus to meet us for dinner.” He breathed deeply. “I can almost smell the steak and lobster now.”

  “Well, I’m about beat,” she said. “I’ll be up early tomorrow to start setting up security for the SOUL incursion into Tremayne.”

  “I have an easy day tomorrow, dear.” He smiled as the elevator door opened. “I will be directing my secretaries to set up a confer
ence call with the Changers Global leaders. If all goes well with our new engagement, they will have no choice but to install me as the Changers Global Supreme Leader.”

  Angelica rolled her eyes and stepped off the elevator. “Can your ego get any bigger? You do realize you’re dreaming of being king of the world, don’t you?”

  Two security guards met the pair as they turned down the hallway on Level Seven and headed toward Levi’s favorite restaurant. “In a few short months this dream, as you call it, will become a reality,” he said. “If you play your cards correctly, Ms. DeMone, you will be at my side.”

  “My cards?”

  “You are not doing well at this point, my dear.”

  “This place is tighter than it’s ever been, Leader,” Angelica said. “I’m light-years ahead of your little hussy, Silver Long.”

  “If that were the case, Dr. Felix Yaz would be in your custody as we speak.” He inhaled deeply again and patted his lapels with both hands as they entered the restaurant. “I love this place.”

  Krystal drove her BearCat down the middle of Habiliment Avenue, hogging the center turn lane. Reflective PUNK SECURITY decals affixed to the truck—and a thin blue illuminated light bar in the vehicle’s grill—prompted Bystander vehicles to yield the right of way. Rush hour traffic and pedestrian activity stirred the air and helped delay the inevitable settling of fog in the downtown area.

  “Almost don’t even need headlights,” Ryker commented. He looked across the cab at Krystal. “Ever see those ancient holograms of Las Vegas? You know, from before the country was walled off?”

  Krystal nodded. “Yeah, but seriously, it’s not quite that bright.”

  “Times Square?”

  She smiled. “Yeah, I’ll give you that. This fog rolling in kinda spreads the lights. Gives the lighting personality.”

  “Tremayne’s definitely got a personality of its own,” Ryker agreed.

  Krystal’s cell lit up. “Looks like Felix. Can you pick up?”

  Ryker snatched the device from the dash mount. “Dr. Yaz?”

  “Oh, yes. I was expecting Krystal. Is this Ryker?”

  Ryker put the cell on speaker. “Krystal’s here. Go ahead, Dr. Yaz.”

  “Hello, Krystal. That young man, Raymond. He has entered Tremayne by way of the east gate, your Checkpoint Four.”

  “We have a crew stationed there, Felix—”

  “Yes, but he just walked through the open gate and into the city.”

  Krystal glanced at Ryker. “Who’s covering Four?”

  “Red’s crew.”

  “We gotta get serious here, Ryk. Red’s a great guy, but he’s weak.”

  “Krystal. I only saw him enter the city. I have not tracked him inside the Perimeter. He is currently beyond my view.”

  “I hear you, Felix. Any other way for you to locate him, like GPS?”

  “Not at this time. I lost track as he began to mingle with the residents of Tremayne. The crowds are currently very heavy.”

  Krystal shook her head. “Okay, fine. Anything else you can tell us?”

  “Only that he stole a device from one of the Punk vehicles at the gate. I do believe it is a portable two-way radio.”

  Krystal frowned and looked at Ryker. “That’s messed up, Ryk.”

  “I’ll deal with Red. The only good news I can give you is his radios aren’t chipped for freq one.”

  She turned to the cell. “Thanks for the info, Felix. Let me know if you find him again.”

  “Of course I will. Goodbye.” The call ended.

  The maître d’ fast-walked behind Levi as the Changers’ leader strode toward his table at the back corner of the plush establishment. The little man struggled to keep up with the two security guards as he waved frantically at various staff members.

  Xander stood from the table and greeted Levi and Angelica as a waiter arrived with a tray holding three drinks. Levi seated himself. Xander stepped next to Angelica and grasped the back of her chair.

  “If you don’t mind, Rasmus,” she said. “I’ll seat myself.”

  The doctor turned without a word and sat back down. He looked across the table at Levi and smiled. “Well, good evening, Leader. I have a great report for you.”

  The security guards stationed themselves on either side of the corner table, facing out into the dining room.

  “That’s what I like to hear.” Levi leaned back slightly to make room for a waiter to place a napkin in his lap. He picked up his martini from the table and held it in the air. “Here’s to good reports.” A smile crept over his face. “And Changers Global domination.”

  “Here, here,” Dr. Rasmus agreed.

  Angelica raised her glass, nodded her head and triple-sipped her drink.

  “So, Doctor,” Levi said. “I trust your report addresses the SOUL Chybrid babies and their lack of benefit to our recent engagement.”

  Xander looked genuinely hurt by the remark. “The babies are of great benefit, Leader. They are essential to the long-term progress of the SOUL project.”

  Levi remained composed. “When I appointed you, Rasmus, it was understood this project, when launched, would be designed to strike the Bystander community fast and hard.”

  Xander took a gulp from his martini. “Leader, the SOUL Chybrid babies are containers designed to ensure the strike has depth. The container babies will provide longevity.” He glanced at the team of waiters approaching the table, thankful for the upcoming break to this conversation.

  “I was under the impression the SOUL Chybrid project launch is impending—”

  Angelica rolled her eyes and took another swig of her drink. She looked at Xander. “He can’t wait to be king of the world.”

  Levi gazed down his nose at Angelica. “It’s ‘Global Supreme Leader,’” he corrected. “That will happen, Ms. DeMone. Have no doubt. Better sooner than later.”

  Four waiters brought two trays full of appetizers and a second round of drinks for the party. Levi rubbed his hands together. “I’m waiting for an answer, Dr. Rasmus.”

  “Apologies, Leader. I’m afraid some clarification is in order.” Xander speared a stuffed potato skin with his fork and dropped it onto his plate. “Recall the SOUL Chybrid children in the classrooms. They, and many like them, are currently deployed inside Tremayne. We have many adult SOULs operating there as well.” He looked up at Levi while slicing into his appetizer. “I like to think of the babies as the Changers’ life-currency.” He popped a bite into his mouth. “They will grow at the same rate as a normal human. In the event we have underestimated the expansion of the Changer population—say, we start to run low on Bystander lives to absorb—we will have the container babies to renew our lives.”

  Angelica picked at an asparagus spear with her fork. “Like an insurance policy?”

  “Exactly,” Xander said.

  Angelica’s cell vibrated as the screen lit up. She picked it up. “DeMone.”

  Levi frowned. “Trouble, Ms. DeMone?”

  Angelica held up a hand. “And how did they get split up?” Pause. “I want a complete report within ten minutes.”

  She set the device down hard on the table and turned to Levi. “Those two idiots, Logan and Dyer, managed to become separated inside Tremayne.”

  “First, Ms. DeMone, remember those two are held in high esteem by both Dr. Rasmus and myself. They are of equal value to this organization as you are. You are the head of security. If anything of a negative nature happens to them, I will hold you directly responsible.”

  Angelica’s eyes widened. “A security detail is currently in Tremayne. I’ll have an update on their whereabouts shortly.”

  Two waiters approached the table pushing two-tiered titanium carts with the group’s entrees. Levi looked at the cart holding his huge steak and steaming lobster and smiled. He leaned toward the cart and breathed in the savory scent. “I want you to go to Tremayne immediately and handle the situation personally.”
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  Angelica glanced at the cart with her dinner and back at Levi. “Right now?”

  “Of course, right now. This is of the utmost importance.”

  “Leader, the situation is under control. Surely it can wait until I finish dinner.”

  “Ms. DeMone.” Levi picked up a fork and a steak knife, rested his fists on the table and turned to Angelica. “Unlike Dr. Rasmus, you have yet to prove yourself. That despicable traitor, Dr. Yaz, is still at large. Krystal Peterson is reunited with the enemy. You have no idea as to the whereabouts of Garrison and Dennis. Now, go to Tremayne and get a handle on the situation at hand. Bring Logan and Dyer back to the Underground posthaste. If you can manage to accomplish this simple task, maybe we can discuss your future as security chief.”

  Angelica pushed her chair back from the table and threw her napkin on top of her untouched meal. She grabbed her cell, turned and walked toward the exit. She tapped the screen on her cell and held it to her ear. “Get the Hyperloop ready, now! I want four security escorts on site, with transportation, when I arrive.”

  Raymond mingled among the Bystanders in Tremayne’s Old Town. Still bitter over his exile from the Punks, the chip on his shoulder kept his spirit down. His rank with the Punks’ organization had afforded him more prestigious assignments than depressed areas like Tremayne’s east side. He hated that at this very moment he didn’t feel out of place rubbing elbows with the lowlifes.

  He scanned the faces in the crowd but avoided eye contact. Everyone seemed to keep to themselves or their own group. Eye contact meant acknowledgment that Raymond existed, that someone else knew he was somehow a part of the armpit of society. Raymond knew a hierarchy existed among the homeless. There were leaders and lackeys, perpetrators of violence and victims. There were fiercely defended turfs and unfortunate interlopers. But Raymond wouldn’t be here long, so figuring out the pecking order mattered little to him. His plan was survival. Until he found a way to join the Changers.

  The ex-Punk jammed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and stood still in the middle of the narrow sidewalk. He was unfazed by the intermittent brushes and bumps from passersby. He turned and gazed across the street. More of the same. His peripheral vision caught the glow of flickering blue lights coming from the west. Punks, he thought, backing slowly into a small alcove—the entrance to a used clothing and thrift store. The tiny shop was closed for the evening.