Flotsam Prison Blues (The Technomancer Novels Book 2)

by M. K. Gibson

The killer eyed my pistols and patted his weapon slightly. Professional courtesy and caution. Thus far I’d survived a near direct hit from a plasma rocket. So to him, I was dangerous.

  Or I was worth more alive than dead.

  I humored him. I stashed my blasters in their holsters, then fished out a smoke and lit it. I’d be damned if I was going to act scared, no matter how deadly the weapon pointed at me. Falling from a skyscraper while killing a demonic archduke on the way down and living through it helps put things in perspective.

  Plus, Grimm was right behind me. He could throw up a magical shield over us and I could pick this guy off. So I just smirked at him and remained silent. Let this assassin talk first.

  A full minute went by. This silent standoff was quickly becoming very boring.

  Oh, to hell with it. He wins.

  “So what’s the plan, assassin man?” I said reluctantly but firmly. The prick smiled and puffed on his cigar.

  “Well, couple ways this can go down,” he said. “You two can just kneel down and allow me to off you quick and painless. Or, you start a dustup and this gets bloody, fast. But in the end, I kill you both and collect a crap-load of money.”

  So much for being worth more alive. He could have carried out his threat and killed us in the bunker. But he didn’t. He liked the game. Which meant he was a real asshole as well as a threat. An assassin who really likes his work.

  “Sorry amigo,” I said as I flicked away my smoke and turned slightly sideways, right leg back. “Neither is going to happen. Walk away and tell your client it’s a no-go. Pay him back whatever you got up front and you live.”

  Assassin Man just smiled and stood slowly, keeping the weapon trained at me and Grimm. “Doesn’t work that way. And just so you know, that plasma rocket wasn’t meant for you.”

  What? My confusion must have shown on my face because stocky assassin asshole smiled wider.

  “I just needed to test a few theories. Like this one.” The killer quickly brought his weapon to bear and the tri-barrel rotated. Grimm threw his hands wide, creating his magical dome shield like I knew he would.

  “Hate to break it to you, but this isn’t my first time dealing with a mage.” The killer squeezed off a single round.

  The bullet ripped right through Grimm’s shield and through his right shoulder.

  Grimm spun, dropping to the ground. Hard. He clutched at his bloody shoulder and on instinct I turned and dropped to one knee next to him. Keeping pressure on his wound with my right hand, I drew a pistol in my left. I aimed my weapon at the assassin’s face, but before I pulled the trigger, I saw he had activated the BEDLAM-7’s portable quarter-dome energy shield and a laser tracer sight hovered over my chest.

  Damn. That freaking weapon really had everything.

  “When this is over,” I said as coldly as possible, “I’m taking that fucking weapon. Then I’m going to piss on your corpse.”

  The assassin smiled and continued smoking his cigar. “That rocket back on the highway was as much of a test of him as of you. Had to see what y’all were prone to do.”

  I must have looked completely flummoxed because the prick kept his soliloquy going.

  “You’re the primary, but I get a hefty bonus if he goes down with you. When I hunt, I like to know everything about my target. Habits, allies, strengths and weaknesses. So that when I kill them, I know I was the better hunter. The report said you were dangerous and resilient, which piqued my interest. On that alone, I would’ve taken the contract. But when the report claimed you had been in recent contact with a mage? Well, that’s even better.”

  I heard Father Grimm groan a little. My friend was in pain because of me. My face hardened and I looked back at the assassin, keeping my weapon aimed right at him.

  “You go on thinking you have a way out of this, boy. Soon, the realization is going to kick in and you are going to see you’re beaten.” He smiled. His aim never wavered. He was taking joy from this.

  “Will you please shoot this prick?” I heard Grimm whisper through gritted teeth.

  “My shield,” I whispered back, and Grimm grunted in acknowledgment.

  “Be right back then,” Grimm rasped, and then he just melted away. Vanished. Damn, magic was kind of cool.

  “Hmm.” The killer cocked his head to one side. “That was not in the report. I hate incomplete reports. Oh well.” The assassin seemed mildly upset and shrugged. The barrels rotated again, and he took aim and fired twice. “Goodbye.”

  The rounds slammed me in the chest, right over my heart, and knocked me on my ass. But Tesla’s barrier shield held, right where the shield needed to be. I lay there a moment, not moving, hoping above hope that playing dead would actually work once in my life. The auto-barrier held, but it still hurt like all unholy hell.

  “Vox?” I heard the killer say, no doubt talking into his communicator. “It’s Legion. Prime target down. Secondary target vanished. No, he did not ‘get away’. I said, he fucking vanished! The report said nothing about teleportation . . . Well, yeah . . . yeah . . . yes. I have dealt with ‘porters’ before, but I was informed about them before in the bloody report!”

  I didn’t know who this “Vox” person was, but my guess was it was his contract lead. So that at least gave me a couple of names to investigate, to figure out who was gunning for me and maybe who hired them.

  My private internal communicator clicked on and I heard Grimm’s voice.

  “I am coming in fast and hard. Distract him,” was all he said, and the comm link faded.

  I cautiously opened one eye. “Legion” had his back to me as he continued to argue with the mysterious “Vox.”

  “You know my methods. I want to know every damn detail. Did you have any intel on the mage that even rumored he could teleport? No, no, I didn’t mean that. No, I’d never accuse you of withholding. No. No.” Legion sighed in resignation. “No ma’am. Yes ma’am. You are. I apologize, ma’am. You’ll have my report soon. Bye.”

  Legion seemed humbled and humiliated. “Fucking bitch,” he said. People only talk like that about a boss they hate. That’s why I work for myself. If I curse myself out, I probably deserved it. I opened both eyes and readied my blasters. He didn’t seem to notice me.

  Good. If he was pissed before at his boss, then his day was about to get worse.

  Then I heard an engine. Grimm’s outrider. Legion turned quickly at the sound and then he saw me, alive and armed.

  “Hiya sweetheart.” I smiled and shot him in both knees.

  Legion dropped his weapon, dropped to the ground, and screamed. I have to give the asshole credit—despite being kneeless, he still tried to get his weapon back. He reached for the Bedlam and I shot his right hand, blowing off the outer three fingers. I wanted to put another round into his head, but I needed some answers first.

  Before I could ask anything, Grimm came screaming down the junkyard trail in his outrider, and it was apparent he wasn’t stopping. I dodged out of the way and Grimm rammed the outrider into Legion and then slammed on the brakes, pinning the mercenary against a pile of garbage. Grimm dropped into reverse, backed up a few feet, gunned it, and rammed Legion again. Cyborgs are notoriously tough and Grimm wasn’t taking any chances. Grimm backed up the outrider, parked it, hopped out, and walked around the driver’s side to inspect his handiwork.

  I noticed that Grimm’s wound was all but gone. Only a hole in his black robes where the round went through him. I had no idea how he healed that fast. Magic?

  Grimm advanced on the fallen assassin, who was a bloody, broken mess. He literally looked like he had been run over. Blood poured from his mouth and he was spitting teeth. But he was still smiling.

  “The ‘Hex-Bullets’, where did you get them? Who hired you?” Grimm demanded, his voice hard.

  “Heh, nice trick. Should have seen that one coming. Especially with the car.” Legion half laughed, half coughed. “Next time, next time.” He continued to babble.

  “The ‘Hex Bullets’! Where d
id you get them?!” Grimm yelled, repeating himself.

  “Shhh. You’re about to miss the best part,” Legion said as he half-closed his eyes and rolled his head to the side.

  I was getting sick of this crap. I pressed the barrel of my blaster against his temple.

  “I don’t want you to go thinking you have a way out of this, boy,” I quoted the dying assassin. “Soon, the realization is going to kick in that you got run the fuck over and you’re spitting up your guts, dying. Tell us who hired you, and where you got the . . . ‘hex bullets’?” I glanced at Grimm, who stood there with his arms folded and nodded. “I promise, I’ll make it quick,” I told him.

  “I will not,” Grimm interjected. I looked at Grimm and he was serious. Something about these ‘Hex-Bullets’ had him ready to kill.

  Legion hacked up more blood and laughed. “Don’t worry, boys. I’ll make it quicker. Be seeing you. Soon.” The implant above his eye blinked.

  Then his freaking head exploded.

  One second he was there, coughing and smiling like a dying man should. Next thing we knew, Grimm and I were coated in the bloody brain pulp of a sadistic psychopath.

  Well . . . that was freaking repugnant. With as much ironic detachment as I could muster, I stood and holstered my weapons. I slowly and calmly wiped the blood and skull fragments from my face. Grimm did the same.

  “So, that was disgusting.”

  “Yes,” Grimm replied.

  “Do you have any wet-wipes?”

  “In the car.”

  “Dante’s? Get a drink, scan these cameras, find out who stole my shit and hired this goon, then fuck up their day for a change?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. First, there’s something I have to do.” I bent down and retrieved the Bedlam-7 and tossed it into the back seat of the outrider.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  I got my pack of smokes, pulled one out, and lit up. “Not just yet. I have one more promise to keep,” I told Grimm as I stood over Legion’s body and unbuttoned my fly. I was, after all, a man of my word.

  “You may want to turn away,” I said, as I took the most satisfying piss I’ve had in two hundred years.

  Chapter Ten

  She Smelled of Books and Chocolate

  A long time ago . . .

  Reynolds walked naked across his penthouse apartment on the lower east side of Lemegeton. He stood by the window and looked out on the ever-growing city. Although it was nighttime, everything was lit up.

  Despite being renamed New Golgotha, the section of the supercity, what used to be New York, was still the city that never slept. As the war was drawing to a close and the humans were clearly losing, those smart enough to ingratiate themselves with the demonic new order were able to use their knowledge and skills to help plan the city’s construction.

  “Reynolds?” a deep but feminine voice called from the bedroom.

  “What?”

  “Are you coming back to bed?”

  “Eventually,” Reynolds answered as he picked up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his glass end table. Lighting his smoke, he continued to look out into the night.

  Reynolds heard her sigh. He didn’t care. Gh’aliss was a base creature who wanted nothing more than to spend all day, and night, in bed. Reynolds appreciated the pre-paid courtesan, a fine gift from the local demonic district’s lord.

  Reynolds had done horrible things since his re-branding of himself. But keeping the demon was akin to sex-slavery, something his lingering human morality would not abide. When gifted to him, he informed her the moment she arrived that she was free to leave. And, should she go, a handsome sum of credits would be given to her. If she were to stay, then it would be of her own accord. And to his surprise, she stayed.

  Which meant nothing in the scheme of things. Reynolds assumed she was a spy. No doubt reporting information about Reynolds’s operations.

  He heard her come out of the room. A look over his shoulder confirmed it. The statuesque, indigo-skinned Lust demon was beyond beautiful. Her overly developed hips and bust were accented by natural lavender skin patterns that swirled along her body in sweeping curves. Her matching lavender hair hung down past her breasts so that her blue nipples peeked through. From head to toe, she was a demonic representation of desire.

  “Come back to bed,” she purred as she drew closer to Reynolds. The demoness was taller than Reynolds, by easily half a head. Her reverse-jointed legs made her walk in something of a sensual, bobbing glide.

  “Later,” Reynolds said as he continued to smoke his cigarette with his back to her.

  “I appreciate the view and all,” Gh’aliss said as she took a seat on the white leather sofa, “but I’d rather see your ass in the bed.”

  Reynolds said nothing in return. He simply stared into the night.

  Gh’aliss sighed. “What’s your fucking problem?”

  “A saw a young boy today.”

  “Oh?”

  “Not like that,” Reynolds said, putting out his cigarette and lighting another. “It was after the battle in the wild lands. A kid survived. He stabbed me in the neck when he realized I was the one who orchestrated the death of the commander. But this kid. He just . . . refused to accept his fate.”

  “So you did give Commander Thomas the booby-trapped weapon?”

  “Yes,” Reynolds sighed.

  “And did everything go according to plan?”

  “Don’t play dumb,” Reynolds said. “I know you know already.”

  Gh’aliss laughed. “I’m just a servant.”

  “Mmm.”

  “But a package arrived for you today,” Gh’aliss said, pointing to a box that sat past the archway of the giant loft’s formal dining room.

  Reynolds went to the box and opened it. Inside he saw the blackened action compartment and sniper scope of the weapon he’d sold to Commander Thomas. The one that killed him. The one that prompted all those people to fight and die.

  “It’s a gift,” Gh’aliss said. “A reminder that you are a cruel and devilish bastard.”

  “It’s a reminder of the new order,” Reynolds said, tossing the chunk of metal back onto the table.

  “Why are you in such a mood? Is it the boy? Is that your kink now?”

  Reynolds growled in his throat, staring at the demoness.

  “Lighten up, lover,” Gh’aliss said as she stretched on the couch. She arched her back, pressing her full breasts into the air.

  “Come here,” she said, opening her legs wide, her hand creeping slowly downward as she began to pleasure herself.

  Reynolds was momentarily entranced by the sheer sexual display. Of all the demons, Lust demons were the most human. The most sought after for obvious reasons. And Gh’aliss was pure beauty and pure sexuality. Her pointed ears twitched as she masturbated in front of him. Her head swayed to an inner music. Her thin, white ram-like horns were rubbing against the leather of the couch.

  Reynolds shook his head, breaking the spell. The topside born demoness never knew the infernal realm, but her power over him was strong. No wonder the demons gave her to him.

  Reynolds went back to end table, ignoring the sexual display, and lit another cigarette. He put his arm and forehead against the window and closed his eyes, trying to block her, and the world, out for a few moments.

  Out there he had to do horrible things. In here, he was trapped by her.

  Gh’aliss stopped and stood from her spot on the couch. She walked to Reynolds, standing behind him. She pressed her breasts into his back as she slowly slid her arm around his waist. Slowly, she began stroking his growing erection.

  “Gh’aliss,” Reynolds warned her.

  “Shh,” the demoness whispered in his ear. “Just enjoy it.”

  Reynolds smoked his cigarette as she continued to pleasure him. Soon, he wanted nothing more than to be inside her. All traces of his humanity were being erased with every stroke of her soft hands. When he reached a point where he could no longer
stand it, he pulled her hand away, turning to stand behind her. Reynolds pushed her up against the glass, bending her over.

  Gh’aliss eagerly presented herself, placing her hands against the window and widening her stance to accommodate the shorter Reynolds. Reaching back, Gh’aliss guided Reynolds inside her as a soft moan escaped her perfect, lavender lips.

  Reynolds began thrusting hard while Gh’aliss pushed back against him, causing a loud, rhythmic, flesh-on-flesh sound. Reynolds cupped her breasts while she reached back, gripping his hips with her sharp, talon-like nails.

  This was not lovemaking. It was just carnal expression. Reynolds knew that. Demons did not believe in love, not the way humans did.

  He wondered, was he even human inside anymore? Reynolds looked up from watching her curvy hips as he thrust, looking over her shoulder at the window overlooking the city.

  He saw himself in the reflection. He saw what he’d become. Standing there, fucking a demon in front of an open widow so the whole world could see. He thought of all the pain he’d caused others since becoming Reynolds. He thought of when he used to be simply Isaac.

  Tears started to roll down his cheeks.

  “Don’t . . . stop,” Gh’aliss said, turning her head back.

  Reynolds pushed her head back down forcefully. The demoness responded with an approving moan while her wings spread outward in ecstasy. Reynolds gripped the base of the wings and continued fucking the demoness while trying to hide his tears.

  ************************

  Now

  A slapdash whore’s bath with baby wipes and a car ride later, Father Grimm and I were pulling up outside of Dante’s bar and brothel, my favorite place in Ars Goetia. The street-level establishment was built from a renovated church near where Baltimore’s Power Plant district used to be.

  If the Devil actually existed, I reckoned he would be proud.

  It was getting close to evening, and as we came to a stop, a nicely dressed human attendant came over to the driver’s side carrying a credit-card-sized laminate.

  A parking pass? Aww hell. Had Dante’s finally given in and gotten valet parking? That was something Jensen always said would never happen as long as he worked there. I looked over to where his beat-up leather recliner used to be.