Mechanic (Corrosive Knights)

by E. R. Torre

  The two occupants of that car silently watched Nox cross the street and head to the Plaza building.

  Nox produced a shiny thin card from her weathered wallet. She inserted it into a slot beside the Plaza’s entry doors and heard a faint buzz indicating the locks were disabled. She pushed the glass door open. The two well dressed men that searched for her through the night waited in the lobby by the elevator doors.

  Nox surveyed the rest of the area. She was in luck. The security guard’s station in the middle of the lobby floor was currently empty. The guard was probably making his rounds.

  Nox quietly walked up behind the two well dressed men.

  The elevator door opened and the two men stumbled inside. They entered a code into the elevator’s control panel and pressed the penthouse key button. When they turned around, they were surprised to see Nox standing before them.

  Elevator etiquette called for the occupants of elevators to turn and face the door. Nox didn’t turn. The doors closed behind her and she continued facing the two well dressed men. After a while, they found her sunglasses-covered stare more than a little uncomfortable.

  “Do we know you?” Monty asked.

  Nox smiled.

  “Candy gram.”

  The penthouse hallway was lined with plush carpeting and priceless original paintings. The elevator door opened and Nox entered this hallway. She looked as out of place here as Donovan did in the Yoshiwara. Appearances, however, were of little concern to the Mechanic.

  After all, she barely noticed the unconscious bodies of the two well dressed men spill out of the elevator and onto the hallway floor immediately behind her.

  Within his office, Robert Octi Sr. and Jr. sat on opposite sides of the room, lost in thought. The long, tense day gave way to a long, equally tense night and each of the Industrialists was eager for any early morning updates. Octi rubbed his eyes and stared out the window at the rising sun. Robert Jr. absently leafed through a magazine, his eyes focused on a point just before the magazine’s surface.

  All was quite. All was calm.

  Until a loud crash shattered it all. The door leading into Octi’s office burst open. Nox walked into the room. In her hand was a large caliber gun. She aimed it at the elderly Octi and adjusted her dark sunglasses with her free hand. Robert reached for the gun in his vest.

  “Wait,” Octi yelled. He rose to his feet and approached his son, laying his right hand on the junior executive’s shoulder before addressing Nox. “You were very busy last night. We all were. Perhaps we could relax and talk a little?”

  Nox’s face betrayed no emotions. After several tense seconds, the burly Mechanic took a seat near the door. She laid the gun on her lap.

  “Let’s talk,” she said.

  The tension within the room eased just a little. Octi straightened out his tie while his son’s hands fell limp to his side.

  “I know what you did to Donovan,” Octi said. “And I know it was you who broke into our warehouse the night before last. I could have the police—”

  Mr. Octi did not finish his statement. He was silenced by Nox, who pulled a diskette from her jacket pocket and flung it on the table before him.

  “In case you’re interested, that’s a recording of all my conversations with Donovan,” Nox said. “If something happens to me, these conversations will be released to the general public. If I go down, so will your organization. From where I sit, you’ve got much more to lose than I do.”

  Mr. Octi eyed the disk, then Nox. A crooked smile crossed his face.

  “That’s it?” he said. The smile broadened. “That’s all you’ve got? I thought you were smarter than that, Miss Nox. My PR boys’ll tear the veracity of this so-called recording to shreds. And even if we were unable to prove it illegitimate, we live in a culture of apathy. What makes you think anyone, anyone at all, would give a shit about a conversation between you and Donovan?”

  Robert looked up at his father. He had the same smile on his face. Nox shrugged.

  “I’ve done a little investigating, Mister Octi, and it appears your grip on Octi Corp. is slipping,” Nox replied. “Up until last year, the board approved every one of your proposals and business schemes by unanimous consent. In this past year, things haven’t gone quite so smoothly. You’ve had a string of six to five votes in your favor and -surprise surprise- some of your proposals were even shot down. If the five naysayers on your board should get a consistent sixth vote in their favor, you’re effectively out as head of your own company.”

  The smile on Octi and Robert’s faces faded. It was Nox’s turn to grin.

  “I’ll admit, this recording may not be much,” Nox continued. “Then again, it might be just enough incentive for one of those boardroom boys to permanently switch sides.”

  Octi again adjusted his tie. There was a scowl on his face.

  “Anyway, that’s your call,” Nox concluded. “As I said before, let’s talk. It’s better than sitting around making mean faces.”

  Mr. Octi released his tie. His hand trembled slightly as he tried to hold down the fury building within. He made it this far in the business world through stealth and guile. He made it a habit of staying several steps ahead of his competition. The humiliation of a lowly Independent getting the upper hand over him did not still well. Not well at all.

  “OK, Nox,” Octi said. “Let's cut all the bullshit and get down to business. What do you want for these recordings?”

  “Nothing,” Nox replied. “They’re not for sale.”

  “They’re not…” Octi began. He shook his head. “Then what do you want?”

  “A trade. I won't release these disks to this apathetic world, and your big bad company won't bother me anymore.”

  “How do I know you won't change your mind? What guarantee do I have that you won’t come back at a later date and we do this dance all over again?”

  “I won’t. My business with you is finished, Octopus.”

  “Octi.”

  Robert shifted in the chair.

  “Why should we trust you?” he said.

  “It's a standoff,” Nox replied. “Because I sure as hell don't trust the two of you.”

  A deep silence settled in the room. After a while, Octi nodded.

  “OK,” he said. “It's a deal.”

  He walked to Nox’s side as the Mechanic rose to her feet. Octi extended his hand to her, but Nox ignored it.

  “It’s a deal,” Nox agreed. “Until you fuck up.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Nox strolled through the lobby of the Octi Plaza with her hands pressed deep in her jacket pockets. The hands gripped separate guns. Her muscles were knotted like steel; her senses were tense with anticipation.

  The guards in the lobby stared hard at her, but allowed Nox to pass. Nox counted six of them. She was sure another dozen were hidden in strategic places, waiting for the order to attack. Though she couldn’t anticipate Octi’s next move, she didn’t think the industrialist would try anything.

  At least not here.

  Given the events of the past days, the last thing Octi needed was more bad publicity at their headquarters. If Octi decided to act, it would be later, when there were no witnesses or obvious links to the company.

  The visible guards watched each and every step Nox made as she walked past them and to the exit.

  Once outside, Nox relaxed. Though her muscles still remained somewhat coiled, her gamble to face Octi personally worked and she was still very much alive. Nox walked to her chopper and turned on the ignition. She stomped on the kick-starter and the engine turned over but didn’t fire up.

  Nox swore.

  She tried the procedure again, with the same results. She looked over the parking lot and at the entry to the Octi Plaza. Several of the security guards stood by the door, watching her.

  “Any of you care to give a lady a boost?” Nox yelled.

  One of the guards gave her the finger, the rest stared in silence.

  Nox shook her head and
tried again. This time the chopper roared to life. Nox smiled. As she drove off, she returned the guard’s gesture.

  It took Nox only a few seconds to notice the tail. Two women, muscular and dark, riding in an equally dark and very beat up vehicle mirrored her moves along the road from a distance of about a hundred feet.

  At first Nox thought it was Octi personnel, but that thought died quickly. Her pursuers drove such an old, loud, and noticeably shitty car that it was unlikely any Octi professionals would be caught dead in such a crate. No, this was the type of car kids on the east side of town could afford. Kids or low rent Independents. Given Nox’s shadows were grown women, she guessed they were members of the Amazon clique. Tough gals, one and all, and low rent Independents to boot.

  Nox sped up and slowed down. She took right turns and left turns and tempted very ripe yellow lights. And still the women behind her followed. After a while, they weren’t even trying to hide their actions.

  “Amateurs,” Nox said with a sigh.

  The neon lights over the Yoshiwara bar reflected in her sunglasses.

  Nox drove into the bar’s parking lot and pretended she didn’t spot the black car at all. It came to a stop across the street. Though it was very early in the morning, Nox was surprised to hear the sounds of Virgin Slayer coming from within the bar.

  They may not know how to play worth a shit, Nox thought. But they sure are dedicated to their craft.

  She stepped into the bar and felt the wave of noise slam her body. Catherine spotted her and waved with her free hand while wiping the bar’s counter with her other.

  “Welcome back,” Catherine said before turning her full attention back to her chores.

  Nox waved back. Business was excellent this first night of the new Yoshiwara. Several partiers remained on the bar’s floor. They continued to dance, though with far less energy than a few hours before. Things were winding down, as they always eventually did.

  Nox made her way to an empty table in the middle of the crush. Almost immediately a handsome young red headed man spotted her and approached. He was a college boy, young and earnest and so very sweet.

  He couldn’t have looked hornier had he worn a bright neon sign around his neck proclaiming that fact.

  “Weren’t you here a couple of hours ago?” he yelled above the roar of music. He didn’t wait for Nox to answer and seated himself beside her. “Care for some company, gorgeous?”

  “Already got some,” Nox replied.

  “Who’s the lucky guy?”

  Nox pointed to the door. The two Amazon women from the black car entered the bar. The boy beside Nox let out a whistle.

  “Please, please let me tag along,”

  “You wouldn’t like us.”

  “The hell I wouldn’t.”

  “Sorry kid, our kind plays rough.”

  “Kid?” the college boy repeated. There was a look of disappointment on his face. Nevertheless, he was mature enough to accept the fact that he had no chance with Nox. The boy stood up and added: “Gotta give me credit for trying.”

  “If you want it.”

  The boy eyed the Amazons and frowned. “Hell, they’re not even all that cute. You could do better.”

  “Probably,” Nox replied.

  The college boy disappeared back into the throng.

  Nox slid out of her chair. She circled the bar’s floor, hiding behind the dancers and the stoners and the crew-cut mob. She passed directly in front of Catherine, who noted her actions. Her face, weary from an already too-long night, grew wearier still. She too spotted the women in black that Nox was moving toward.

  “No trouble,” she said when Nox passed in front of her.

  “None at all,” Nox replied and moved on.

  It didn’t take long for her to make her way behind the two muscular Amazons. They looked around the floor, blissfully ignorant that their prey stood directly behind them. Nox removed her gun from her jacket pocket and stuck it into one of the women’s back.

  “Looking for me?” she yelled.

  The women froze in place.

  “I promised the owner of this place there wouldn’t be any trouble,” Nox said. “Don't make a liar out of me.”

  Nox nudged them forward. The trio worked their way to the dark back corner of the bar and sat behind a table. Catherine made her way to them.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she asked.

  “My friends are inviting,” Nox said. “Prestigio for us all.”

  Catherine headed back to the counter.

  “Wait,” Nox yelled. Catherine returned to the table. Nox motioned to the Amazons, then to Catherine. “In this place, we pay in advance.”

  The women reached into their pockets. They gave Catherine a couple of bills.

  “Don’t forget to tip,” Nox said.

  They again reached into their pockets and handed Catherine another couple of bills.

  “Keep the change,” one of the Amazons growled.

  Catherine winked at Nox and disappeared into the crowd.

  “For a while there I thought Octi sent you,” Nox said.

  The Amazons were surprised by the Mechanic’s statement.

  “Don't you work for them?”

  “Once upon a time,” Nox said. “Not anymore.”

  “Then why were you at their building just now?”

  “I was negotiating a severance package,” Nox said. “You know, it’s been a long night, so let’s get down to business. You were following me. Why?”

  “We can't say,” the second goon replied.

  As the words left her mouth, Catherine reappeared with three bottles of Prestigio beer. She placed them in the center of the table. Nox reached for the one closest to her and, in a lightning fast move, smashed it against one of the Amazon’s jaws. The woman was knocked out cold and fell heavily to the ground. Before the other Amazon could react, she found Nox’s gun pressed hard under her chin.

  Around them, the entire bar went silent. Everyone froze in place.

  “You can tell me,” Nox said, her voice cold and dead serious. She rose to her feet and motioned the woman before her to do the same. “And you will.”

  The Amazon leaned down and lifted her partner off the ground. The two, with Nox standing very close behind them, walked through the parting crowd and to the bar’s exit.

  “This your idea of no trouble?” Catherine asked.

  “I’ll try harder next time,” Nox said.

  The two Amazons and Nox made it past most of the crowd. Close to the bar’s exit, Nox spotted the college boy who tried to pick her up. He looked like he was trying hard not to throw up.

  “Still want to tag along?” she asked him.

  The college boy shook his head.

  “Maybe next time,” Nox said.

  The Mechanic led the Amazons to the bar’s exit and quietly left the place.

  Catherine managed a tiny grin. She eyed the lead singer of Virgin Slayer. Like all the other people in the bar, the man’s face looked unnaturally pale.

  Kids today, Catherine thought. The grin turned into a barely suppressed smile. Their music is loud as shit but as weak as the fans.

  Catherine noted the broken glass and blood on the floor. In her day, that’s the way the evenings began.

  “Well?” Catherine told the singer. “How about one last encore?”

  The singer snapped his fingers and the drummer and guitarist laid into their instruments. Catherine grabbed a mop from behind the counter.

  All things considering, not a bad first night.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Salvation Brokers Congregation was one of countless religious organizations that, over the past two decades, sprung up in the inner city. In these tough times, religions flourished. Those who were inclined to wonder about these things theorized that the greater the economic despair, the greater the need for spiritual guidance.

  The more cynical felt that the already desperate crowds were much easier targets to those in the business
of selling salvation. At least two dozen sects, the cream of the spiritual crop, grew to be big businesses. They gobbled up, Darwinian-style, those smaller sects unfortunate enough to pitch a tent anywhere near them.

  Over time, these bigger organizations moved from the inner city to the business district, to be closer to their wealthier clients. Meanwhile, the smaller sects fought for whatever donation scraps they could find.

  They were a bunch of small fish in a small pond.

  The Salvation Brokers was an obvious newcomer to the area. It still served only the inner city and its poor. Their donations were anemic compared to the big boys and this was obvious to anyone standing before the single story shack that was their building.

  Nox pushed the two Amazons forward and through the congregation’s front door.

  “Not that you’re worth all that much, but where did a piece of shit place like this dig up the money to pay for you two?” Nox asked.

  “Maybe we’re doing this for a greater cause,” one of the women replied.

  Nox examined her two captives closely.

  “Come to think of it, you two look exactly like the type of Independents a place like this can afford.”

  “Fuck you,” the second woman spat.

  The inside of the building was as weathered as it was on the outside, with one obvious exception: A gaudy neon altar. Nox eyed the altar wearily. If there was one thing you could count on in just about any house of worship was a fancy altar. Facing it was a scrawny, forty-some year old man. He was dressed in a white robe and was bent down on his knees in prayer.

  “Thomas Rose?” Nox called out.

  The man in the robe turned. His face was sharply angular and his expression too sober, like he was in desperate need of a drink.

  “What can I do for you?”

  Nox waved her gun at her captives.

  “Get out of here,” she said.

  The two Amazons hesitated. They eyed Thomas Rose and waited for his instruction.

  “You may leave,” Rose said.