Learning the Hard Way 3

by H. P. Caledon

  Mike lifted his head to see if the two men would leave soon. Both held a hand to their ear.

  “Say again?”

  “Then it wasn’t him! He’s in South Port!”

  Both men stormed out of the alley, and Mike sighed.

  “This is so not happening,” Mike grumbled. “I look like a tousled port bum, and I get confused with another tousled port bum with a medium bounty on his head?”

  “Good, then they don’t expect K or M,” Danny said.

  “How about we visit Starlings, boys? I’ll buy the first round,” Misery’s voice interjected.

  “K, how far are you from her?” Mike looked at his wristband to find her location, but her dot was gone.

  Good girl. At contact, she’d told them where she was and ditched the earpiece so Mike and Keelan couldn’t be located through their twin signals.

  But it sounded like there was more than one guy with her. Could she take down two or keep them busy long enough for Keelan to arrive?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Even if it wasn’t a race, Misery still felt proud that she made it to the alley first. She’d never run that fast in her life, and sweat soaked her clothes and made her shirt cold and clammy. She’d never perspired in pearls like Mike and Keelan. Maybe it was normal for men to sweat more? Either that, or they sweated instead of heaving for air like she mostly did.

  She leaned against the wall and tried some of the breathing techniques Mike had taught her so she could get her breathing under control. If someone caught up to her now, she could still run a bit more, just like Keelan had trained her to. She definitely knew she could fight, even though she was tired and her legs were shaky.

  In an attempt to cool down, she took off her jacket and waved it to dry it off.

  “I’m in the alley,” she informed them.

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Mike answered.

  “MM, you got attention, and not the wanted kind,” Keelan said. “Continue at your tempo, I have eyes on your tail. D, find me a cheap bar on the map.”

  It occurred to her that she was holding her breath, so she focused once again on her breathing. When Danny called back with a name, Misery ran the layout she’d stared at for days through her head. It really had helped, because she knew that Mike was about two blocks from her.

  With mercs in the area, none of them could run far without attracting too much attention, so the few minutes Mike mentioned had been postponed.

  She looked around the alley, but there were no fire escapes allowing her onto the roof. Even if that was an option, she had no idea how tall the buildings were, since she’d only seen the layout from above.

  “Am I going into the bar?” Mike asked, followed by incomprehensible murmurs.

  Her heart rate picked up. Even though she’d felt quite secure in herself going on the mission then, she was more than aware that she was now alone, there were mercenaries all over, and even Mike, despite all his military training, wasn’t a match for five equally trained mercs.

  “It’s me, calm down! Jacket and scarf.” Keelan said. “Close your eyes and mouth.”

  Misery sighed in relief that Keelan had made it to Mike first, but she didn’t get much sense of what they were doing.

  “D, I’m going over the rooftops. Find me a route to an alley I can descend into. No more than two and a half meters between buildings and they have to be equal height or lower. MM stay put, I’m coming back for you.”

  Misery smiled at the fact that Keelan had also thought about the height of the rooftops, because that had to mean she did something right. It gave her a bit of courage, but she felt blind standing in the alley, because she had no idea who was around. She couldn’t hide in the alley, and she needed to know if she needed to run again or not. There wasn’t even a container in the alley, which registered as the realization that she had nowhere to find weapons. Her eyes landed on a broken pen on the ground. Well, she’d rather be disarmed for a pen—hell, even a toothpick—because then the attacker would get brave and underestimate the real threat. Or rather threats, since she actually carried three knives.

  She picked up the pen and hid it in her left hand so she could drape the jacket over her arm and conceal the pen but still be ready to use it. She ran the scenario of dropping the jacket and stabbing the pen into an arm or shoulder muscle through her head a few times. The downward force would see to the wound being unable to close up on itself, as it would if she just stabbed in and withdrew the weapon. Twist or tear, as Mike always said, but a pen wasn’t wide enough to be useful in a twist.

  Feeling better about her chances, she went to the corner of the alley and glanced around the street as if she was just bored, waiting for someone.

  A man gawked at her, and she bit down, hard.

  No, a boy-disguise wouldn’t get that kind of attention. The hungry look in his eyes made her scold herself for taking off her jacket and thus creating an attraction. She glared at the man in the manner Mike had thought most like her mother, and the man looked away quickly.

  She smiled to herself and looked the other way, getting eye contact with two mercenaries, who pointed at her.

  Have they recognized me or are they just more disciplined in checking out female curves?

  “I’m spotted, I’m out of here,” Misery said and turned to strut down the street in as calm a tempo as she dared. Keelan’s roar didn’t help her keep calm, though.

  As she walked, she tried to check every blank surface to see where the mercs were, but there weren’t a lot on Reeds in general, and the rest were hidden behind the many people on the streets. She certainly didn’t dare stop to examine a blank surface. Mike could have taken those setbacks into account during training on the ship, and she’d be sure to remind him to. But for now, she had to get off the street, hide, and wait for Keelan to come and find her, because she was no match against two mercs on her own.

  “M, your profile has just been checked in SWIS by Kleiman. I can see him and one more behind you. Ten meters. One on each side of the street,” Danny said.

  “I have Karlson and two NU in sight,” Keelan said.

  “Get to Misery, or I will,” Mike said.

  “You stay in your garbage, I can’t run around after both of you. But I can kill these two and keep Karlson. They might want to make a trade if necessary,” Keelan growled. Misery liked the way he thought, but she also saw the downside to his plan. That would mean they’d get the rest of the mercs on their necks.

  “Not sensible,” she mumbled, hearing Keelan growl some more. Debating it with him would be futile, she knew that, but maybe he’d just hold back and keep an eye on Karlson.

  Misery saw the Starlings Bodega further ahead and remembered something Mike had said about the building regulations passed in some Systems. She just hoped Reeds were in such a System, because then she could just count the floors on a building and know if there were fire escapes and if there were escape possibilities to one side or the other. And, most importantly, if there were exits from the back of the buildings into the alleys.

  She only had one chance, because if she walked into an alley, she wouldn’t make it back out before Kleiman and partner were there. The next three buildings were above the floor count in the new building regulations, so they should have fire escapes. She crossed her fingers and turned the corner, and only then did she notice that the alley took a turn further down, too. Her eyes scanned everything for more weapons, windows, doors, stairs and people. There were none of the latter, plenty of the first. She just hoped the doors weren’t locked.

  Even before she made it halfway down the alley, she heard footsteps behind her, but she didn’t turn before reaching the end of the alley. From there, she could see that the alley went behind the buildings, and there were doors to the buildings and the complex further away.

  Her memories dug up the layout, and she found herself trapped if the team had split up.

  Shit.

  Misery turned around. Kleiman stopped and looked
at her condescendingly. She heard more footsteps, and as feared they came from the direction that would indicate that the team had split up. The owner of the second set of feet rounded the corner, and Misery froze.

  Cecil Hallett.

  Mike had searched that profile enough times for her to see it often enough to be able to recognize the guy.

  “How about we visit Starlings, boys? I’ll buy the first round,” Misery asked and stretched—a movement meant to conceal her actions of pulling out the earpiece and tossing it. It worked, because their gazes raked her curves while she did it.

  “Well, well. Misery Fall is almost grown up,” Cecil said.

  “Looks grown enough to me,” Kleiman said. Unlike Cecil, he hadn’t taken her eyes off her body yet.

  “Shut your trap, Jonas!” Cecil stepped closer, holding her gaze.

  Misery gave up trying to slither away. That guy was too weathered to not know every trick out there.

  “But she will be,” Cecil said.

  “Fuck along and sell some more of your teammates. You have experience in that, right?” Misery said. Uncertainty flashed briefly in Cecil’s eyes, and she smiled. “Yeah, you know my name. Jonas Kleiman here checked my profile with SWIS less than half an hour ago.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, bitch?”

  “I said, shut it,” Cecil yelled and pointed at Kleiman before staring at Misery. “And why do you think that?”

  Misery smiled theatrically and flipped him off.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Cecil continued. “You don’t have to have lived on the streets for long to learn how to bluff. Only difference is, I’m too experienced to let myself be tricked by street bitches.”

  “Uh!” Misery said and shivered before rolling her eyes.

  “You know what, bitch,” Kleiman said and stepped closer, but he was once again stopped by Cecil.

  Misery was content to let them have their little pissing contest, because she had to drag out time for Keelan to get there. Preferably with Mike as backup, as the current situation could get messy. How far could she take it before they just lost patience with her and attacked?

  “You killed a friend of mine, did you know that?” Cecil asked.

  “Your friend tried to collect me, did you know that?” Misery imitated sarcastically.

  Cecil chuckled and nodded.

  “Bad Cecil, you’re a lawman. At least that’s what the badge says. What are you doing with collectors? And buyers?”

  Cecil’s smile froze on his face, but if Misery hadn’t been looking for that very reaction, she would have missed it. The man was disciplined. Mike was right, Cecil was a cunning son of a bitch.

  “Call the others, Kleiman. They don’t need to run around for Flannigan. One small bounty is as good as another—as long as we get the hell out of here.”

  “Three thousand for a day on Reeds? You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Kleiman exclaimed, and stared agape from Misery to Cecil.

  “Close your mouth, dude, you look like your IQ just dropped fifty points,” Misery said. With some satisfaction, she heard his mouth close with a teeth clattering sound.

  He scoffed and shook his head, set his earpiece and made the call. He then tried again.

  Cecil kept glancing his way, and Misery once again smiled theatrically at Cecil.

  “Nifty jammers near slave markets. Used near auctions, too.”

  “Jammers?” Cecil asked and looked at Kleiman.

  Kleiman searched the top of the buildings.

  “Yeah, like you said. You learn a lot on the streets,” Misery said.

  “Not exactly your average street kid’s knowledge,” Cecil muttered, and Misery noticed the tricks he used to look around undetected.

  “Come on, fellows, I know what my profile says. I know who you’re waiting for. But Karlson’s probably running late.” She couldn’t help laughing.

  Anger flashed in Cecil’s eyes, and he pulled a knife.

  Misery was quite impressed by its size and design—professional and military issued.

  “Three thousand credits? You’re not worth the flight to Orlani. You wouldn’t get me three as a slave either, even though the curves growing in on you would make you a nice pleasure slave,” Cecil sneered. “And we’ll start the training.”

  Something clicked in Misery’s brain. She had to control her breathing and body language so they wouldn’t notice how nervous she felt, but a feeling of empty calmness spread within her, and where it reached, a bubbly sensation took over and tickled her nerve endings.

  “What the hell?” Kleiman exclaimed while Cecil grew pale.

  Misery looked at her hands—white and thin—but she recognized them and didn’t feel scared. She laughed humorlessly, but it wasn’t her laughter. It was a shrill sizzling sound. Cecil took a step back while Kleiman stepped forward.

  “No, no, don’t attack,” Cecil shouted.

  But Misery noticed Kleiman go for his weapon anyway. She spun and initiated her attack, pirouetting to confuse even more and grabbing her knife from her thigh pocket in the process. As hoped, the pirouetting confused him, and he hesitated—she knelt to avoid his attack and swung out her own arm. Something warm hit her cheek, and she instinctively closed her mouth before she stretched her arm, turned the knife, and jammed it upward. It met resistance and forced a grunt from Kleiman as she embedded it in the center of his chest.

  “Damn—” Cecil didn’t get further in his rant because he grabbed and cocked his pistol. Misery grabbed Kleiman’s and let his body fall over, resulting in his finger pulling the trigger. A shot rang out before his corpse hit the ground.

  Cecil jerked.

  Misery used the hesitation to get her own finger on the trigger and fire two shots. Cecil screamed as his body jerked backward several steps. He fell to his knee. From that position, he fumbled on the ground with his left hand for the pistol lying to the right of him.

  The fact that she’d shot off the lower part of his right arm finally registered through, and she ran to him. He had just managed to get his hand on the weapon, so Misery stomped on it. Cecil screamed again and lashed out at her, but that arm was too short to hit her even at that distance.

  Misery pulled out her own knife. The one she had made herself.

  “Mike Thomas Matthews says hello,” she sneered. Cecil lost his disciplined façade and pulled in air to say something, but Misery grabbed his hair, pulled his head back, and without hesitation pulled the sharp blade across his throat.

  A strange hissing sound escaped him, and she grimaced as bubbles mingled with the blood. Luckily, the arterial spray squirted away from her. Keelan’s anatomical teachings explained the bubbles—she’d cut deep enough to open up the windpipe.

  She finally let go of his head, and the weight of it pulled the slash more open, but she looked away from the gaping throat and stepped back so the corpse wouldn’t fall on her feet.

  Turning her attention to her hands, she found them still white and covered in blood. The contrast was insane. On a closer inspection, she might as well have stood in the arterial spray because she was covered in more blood than she could hide.

  The empty clarity drew back, leaving her heaving for air again. Her hands changed color, but the blood on them remained equally visible. And then she noticed the bubbly sensation in her skin.

  She could change form, too.

  But she had no borrowed DNA, so all she could change into was the white figure.

  The air was saturated with scents she’d never noticed, and even though she knew the smell of blood, it was sickeningly strong now. But also other scents. The two men’s body odor had changed when she did.

  “Don’t throw up, don’t leave DNA, don’t leave... weapon, ditch the blade... uhm, two, I used two. Kleiman... Cecil... ” she muttered, focusing on remembering the lessons and not panic, but they were only theoretical and to be put into practice for the first time.

  She then remembered having ditched the earpiece. Now who was supposed to he
lp her over the rooftops?

  Noise at the end of the alley made it through her adrenaline pumped mind, and she realized people had to have heard the shots.

  * * * *

  Keelan made it to Starlings Bodega and changed his form in an alley close by, but he left his lenses in—there was no time. He then swayed his way across the road in the Clive Bleary-Eye disguise.

  There was a big commotion at an alley further ahead. Keelan made his way through the masses, bitching about people making so much noise and filling up the street in front of his bodega.

  People murmured, cussed, pointed, talked, yelled, laughed, fought, and pushed each other, but Keelan made it to the opening to the alley. He saw a body at the end of it and changed his eyes but saw no colors. And he couldn’t go down there without getting in trouble.

  The sound of sirens grew louder, and he mumbled and pushed his way back through the crowd to make his way to the pile of garbage he’d dumped Mike in.

  “I can’t get close, the law is on the scene soon.” Keelan tried to suppress a growing lump of fear in his chest. It hurt. It physically hurt in ways he had never thought possible.

  “Want me to come to you?”

  “No, stay where you are. I’m on my way.”

  “We’re trying to find her through your watch by bypassing your signals,” Danny said.

  “Is that possible?” Mike asked.

  “Yes, we can, but it takes a lot of time because we have to manually go through every code and there are a lot! We started the second her signal got lost.”

  “Thanks.” Keelan hoped that the information plus his trust in Danny’s and the Chiromancers abilities would ease the pain in his chest. But he wasn’t that lucky.

  Mike still lay in the pile when Keelan arrived and changed his form at the end of the dark alley. Mike fought the garbage and got up with a bit of help from Keelan.

  “I don’t know where she is,” Keelan said, noticing the thickness to his voice. He cleared his throat and swallowed a few times. The pity in Mike’s eyes made anger rise in Keelan. He grabbed Mike and hauled him the rest of the way out of the garbage, and Mike held his hands up in defense. A guilty conscience mingled with all the feelings, and Keelan let go, shaking.